Broken Our Mirrors
by IndefiniteHeaven
Summary: Dipper thought he heard a distant whispering. Mabel thought she witnessed a shadow out of the corner of her eyes. They had never thought that the Mystery Shack could possibly be haunted by a vanished family member. This discovery may kick-start the most difficult challenge for the twins of the Pines family. The wheel of destiny revolves, revealing secrets...Anxiety!Dipper COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Editing out mistakes of entire story on 1/25/16.  
**

The Mystery Shack was eerily silent.

Mabel hated it. She loved when the sun shone pleasantly through the windows, revealing the dancing particles of dust in the air. She loved the ignorant tourist's constant chatter, as they listened to the weaved tales concocted by "Mr. Mystery" and bought the tawdry gift shop products. She loved the conversations made with her devoted family and friends. Mabel passionately hated this side of the Shack though. It was pitch dark. Deathly silent. She obviously knew the layout of the building, but none the less the dark Shack produced a perturbed feeling, that progressively welled up in her heart. Usually it wasn't quite that bad. She didn't wake often in the dead of the night and if she did, she was too sluggish to properly feel perturbed about a thing. But, this was one of those eerie nights that gave her those feelings. She simply wished to return to her nice, comfy room, reassured by the light breathing from her twin brother. Mabel was a preteen on a mission though; She needed water.

She softly creaked open the oak door of their bedroom, stepping out onto the the room where the stairs where located. Mabel slowly slunk down them, flinching at bit at the first creak produced by the floorboards beneath her fuzzy slippers. She would simply go to the kitchen, get a glass of water, and return to bed. No big deal. Not a thing to worry about. Mabel glided confidently down the hallway, feeling stupid about worrying in the first place. The brunette was able to successfully get her water, using the sink to fill her glass jar up. She took a sip, eyes adjusting to the dark. The outlines of the house were coming to her vision. Everything was fine. She had no idea why she worried. There wasn't any need to. Sure, there were dangerous things out in the forest, but the Shack was completely and totally safe from that danger. Mabel smirked to herself. No monsters out there could get her! And, there was nothing in the house that coul-

Except for that shadow.

By the luminance of the moon outside, she saw the barest outline of someone by the back door. Her cup froze in place, barely kissing her lips. After a moment, she screeched in fear and dropped her half full jar. Glass exploded everywhere, water gushing smoothly across the tile floor. Mabel stumbled back, as the shadow began to advance towards her. Oh, god, she was going to be killed by some robber or murderer. She was about to screech again, for help this time, but the light in the kitchen suddenly flickered on. Her eyes adjusted to the lighting, seeing a few dark spots in her vision. It was only her Grunkle Stan who was standing by the back door, hand on the switch next to it.

"Jesus, Mabel! What the heck are ya doing?" Stan exclaimed as he saw what had broken.

"Grunkle Stan!" She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Uh, what are _you_ doing?"

He narrowed his eyes, as she avoided the question. "I ain't stupid, kiddo. I invented the 'answer-a-question-with-a-question' trick. Used to use it all the time as a kid. And if you really wanna know what I was up to, I was just chasing off those darn raccoons. They were freakin' digging through the trash, _again_..." Stan trailed off, mumbling about what gruesome things he would do the next time the raccoons returned. Mabel, still trying to calm her heart, decided not the comment this time on his cruel torture towards animals.

"Oh...I was just getting s-some water."

"Well, I can see that. You broke the glass and spilled it everywhere!"

Mabel cringed at this. "Sorry Grunkle Stan...you just...s-surprised me...I'll clean it up."

Stan released a sigh when he noticed how, uncharacteristically, fretful she was. "Never mind that, I'll clean it up myself. Now, get to bed."

Mabel nodded as her great-uncle reached into the kitchen pantry for a broom. She shuffled around the remains of the glass jar, intending to head to the darkened hall. She simply desired to go back to her bed, cuddling up against Waddles, until she drifted off to a peaceful slumber. She just wanted to forget that her imagination had decided to run wild and make her believe Stan was some random stranger that broke into the Shack. Mabel didn't even want to think about what would happen if that truly did happen. She was nearly to the hall, when Stan gently called her back over. She halted her walking and turned back around, standing in the entryway. He appeared to be somewhat concerned, eyebrows furrowed together. Why was that? "You ok, kiddo?"

Mabel jerkily nodded. There was no point in telling her great-uncle what she had foolishly seen, as that would only cause him to believe she was crazy. Stan wouldn't believe her anyway; she was never serious, about anything. No one ever did believe her. Stan went back to sweeping up the shambled mess on the tile. The preteen gulped as she studied the glass. The shattered remains glistened menacingly, clinking when Stan swept at them. She knew what she hated more than a dark Shack. Mabel hated the fragmented leftovers of glass. Glass was fragile and fragile things broke. Broken things reminded her of other _things_ she didn't wish to think on. Things connected to that night. _That_ night. The night she witnessed the near de- She abruptly halted that thought, forcefully looking away from the mess, swallowing down her nausea. Mabel slipped herself out into the darkness of the hall. For whatever reason though, she glanced over her shoulder, ceasing movement as she did so. The darkness, and glass, and _that_ night were immediately forgotten. From the eerie glow of the dimmed kitchen light, an unknown shadow loomed over her great-uncle's.

_~!14-9-14-5-20-5-5-14/19-5-22-5-14-20-25-6-9-22-5!~ _

The Mystery Shack was eerily silent.

Dipper hated it. Last night, Mabel had gone to have one of her rambunctious sleepovers at Candy's house, along with her other friend, Grenda. No Waddles either. Mabel decided to introduce him to Candy's cat, Yaong. He felt bad for Mr. and Mrs. Chiu, knowing they were in for one crazy night. Here though, that usually (and thankfully) meant a whole lot less noise, as his twin sister was the boisterous one of the family. Dipper and Stan were appreciative that they could finally get a break from her and her noise. To be honest, the quiet tended to make him nervous, but usually the noise of his Grunkle Stan scamming the rowdy and ignorant tourists, Soos doing Grunkle Stan's slave work, or Wendy making causal conversation with the customers was enough to simply make the worry melt away. There was none of that this morning though. No Grunkle Stan scamming, no Soos doing slave work, and no Wendy making causal conversation. He had woken to silence.

Dipper stood, in a daze, in the brightly lit hall. The outside sun dazzlingly beated onto his, already warm, skin. He had been observing the dust particles dance and swirl before his vision. Dipper snapped out of his mindless gaping and looked out the window. The vast, never ending, forest of Gravity Falls was illuminated by the rising sun. Shadows stretched out across the lawn and into the hall. He took in the beauty of the wild Oregon landscape. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and he wished, for not the first time, that he could live here, instead of near the Pacific ocean. Mabel claimed she believed California was the most beautiful place on the planet (though Dipper wasn't sure how she could claim such a thing, when the only other place the two had been was D.C. when their mother had gone for a business trip). Dipper though, thought this was the most beautiful place he had traveled to. If only it wasn't so quiet.

"Hello? Mabel? Grunkle Stan?" He voiced into the kitchen, as he entered. He received the sound of silence as his answer. Dipper frowned. The brunet was never here alone and it was unusual for it to be so. This provoked his heart to flutter with nerves. Dipper continued on to the living room, pushing down the panic welling in his heart. No one there either. His hands began to get clammy and trembly. He finally decided to make his way to the store, praying that everyone was already there. That was empty of people as well though. And it was a Saturday. Those were the usually some of the busiest days of the week and not a soul was to be seen. Dipper gulped, feeling full-on anxious now. He made his way back to the living area on shaky legs, wondering what could be going on and why no one was around the Shack. Dipper was struck with the need to get to safety. He stepped into the hall, intending to head back to the safety of his room. The house still had that sort of silence that happened before dawn. When there wasn't any sound he would just abou-

Except there was an uncanny murmur behind him.

Dipper whirled around in the hall he now stood in, fear flaring. He calmed when he realized he was completely alone. He released a breath in relief and wiped at his sweaty forehead. Dipper frowned, as he realized it was chilly, not hot in anyway. It was the middle of the summer. Why did he feel like this? Strangely breaking out into a cold sweat was not a good sign. His breathing sped up. His thoughts became apprehensive as he realized something was about to occur. What? How did he know something was about to occur? The brunet slowly turned around, staring at the far away staircase. Dipper needed to return to his room immediately. How did he know though? His thoughts were all jumbled and tangled right now. A phrase was beginning to infinitely repeat itself. What did that mean? _What_ did that mean? _What did that mean? WHAT DID THAT MEAN? **WHAT-**  
_

A word was murmured by his ear. "_...sick..._"

Dipper fearfully stumbled back from where he stood, chocolate eyes blown wide with horror and distress. Panic, that hadn't grasped him quite this strongly in awhile, seized him with its vicious claws. He needed to release. Release its claws? Release his panic? Release what? He couldn't even think! Both. He needed to do both. Dipper's lips moved, scream beginning to form, before it could release though, he tripped over his own two-feet. The back of his head painfully smacked into Stan's door. When he steadied himself, Dipper groaned aloud and rubbed the damaged area. The panic had been ebbed away, and the need to release a scream had vanished. His body was a separate story though. Suddenly, the door behind him swung open, causing him to startle.

A somewhat swaying Stan stood in the doorway. Dipper's hands dropped from his bruised head. His erratic breathing was audible as he toke in the maroon sleeping robe, watering eyes, and apparent flush on his great-uncle's face. Stan wiped at his nose with a bundled up tissue in his hand and sniffled loudly. He then produced the best glare that he seemed to be capable of at the moment, before speaking in a nasally tone. "What the heck are you doing, kid?"

"Uhhh...I was just...looking for s-something...um, are you ok?"

Stan scowled at the preteen. "Do I look ok to you, kid?"

"Right, sorry," Dipper was embarrassed at the obvious answer. "You're sick."

"No, really?" He sniffled, again, as he sarcastically replied. Stan then took in his great-nephew's appearance, noting the inconsistent breathing and tense appearance. "...You ok?"

Dipper hastily bobbed his head up and down. Satisfied, Stan moved on."Well, I'm gonna go back to bed. And you're gonna stop running into things and making all that darn ruckus this early in the morning!"

Stan slammed the door, with an grumpier look than usual on his face, right as Dipper opened his mouth to reply. He rolled his eyes at his great-uncle's typical behavior. Even when he was sick, he was still the same irritable old man. Waking him up wasn't even Dipper's fault. It was tha-The brunet cautiously observed his surroundings, searching for what could of made that ominous mutter. There was nothing though. What? His blank stare returned, set on the door of Stan's room, wondering what had even happened just a mere minute ago. Was there even a sound? Was he just imagining things? He would of easily been able to pass it off as his imagination, if it wasn't for one factor; This wasn't the first time. After what seemed to be years, Dipper decided to retreat to the attic. Just go to bed, all alone, and pretend this morning had not occurred. Dipper thought it sounded like a decent plan. As he was climbing the stairs though, he ignored the whisper he heard say his great-uncle's name.

_End Prologue_

**_EDIT:_ For any new readers of this story, Grunkle Stan is Stanford and Grunkle Ford is Stanley. At the time this was created, the theory that Stanley Pines was the author's name was what everyone thought to be true. I decided to keep this the same, as a reminder of what could of been. Grunkle Stan is their great-uncle and Stanley is their grandfather, since Shermy Pines doesn't exist in this. The Mystery Trio was considered the real deal, though it may not be canon any longer. The Mystery Trio is canon in this fic though, so there are discussions of them in later chapters. **


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper woke, heaving for breath, as he tried desperately to suppress the urge to hyperventilate. Oh, god, that was horrible. He needed to calm his breathing though. In, out. In, out. In, out. Out, in. Out, in. Out, in. He lay there, soothing his aching lungs with the breathing technique. His dream had caused this. Or it seemed to be more of a night terror. What was it even about? Oh. It was _that_. Dipper observed the morning light stream lazily through the triangle window by his bed. He frowned. A triangle? How had he never noticed that? A triangle just like B- He heard the distant arguing of Grunkle Stan and Wendy coming from downstairs. She must of came in late, again. He assumed it must of been around opening time. The chatter fully eased the anxiety and near panic attack soothed away. They could make him feel safe, even at the worse of times.

Nightmares were a constant for Dipper. They had been his whole life (or at least as early as he could remember). The night terrors were a variety, ranging anywhere between getting the fear of a test, to the monsters in Gravity Falls murdering him. Since coming to Gravity Falls, he hadn't gotten so worked up about the now few dreams, but lately they had been getting worse, just like before he came here. He had even heaved into the toilet the other night, due to a partially bad one about Bill Cipher being back in his body. Thankfully, he wasn't alone though, as his sister sat with him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. She always knew what to do to make her brother feel better. Dipper hadn't any clue what he would do without her. Last night wasn't the dreaded triangle demon though. It was actually what he hadn't thought of for half of the summer. That is, of course, until now. Lingering on it would work him up, again, so he thought on different subjects, like why exactly his clock actually read 11:51 AM, instead of around 7 AM, when the shop opened. Why was he waking when it was nearly noon?

The brunet realized he felt completely exhausted, even though he had slept for hours. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Dipper just about laid back down, intending on sleeping more, but he knew it was way past the time he usually got up around. He stumbled sluggishly to the dresser, near Mabel's bed, and began to rummage through the top drawer, searching for that day's clothes. He decided to to dress differently than he typically did, opting for a forest green t-shirt and dark shorts, but still retained his signature trucker hat. After dressing, he made his way downstairs and into the empty kitchen. Dipper could now hear bits of what Wendy was saying to the noisy tourists. He found a carton of milk, a strangely bent spoon, a red plastic bowl, and a box of his favorite cereal. Dipper poured his bowl of "Overly Sensitive Owl" cereal and inspected it. Suddenly, the overly bright colors made his stomach lurch and he placed a hand over his mouth, attempting to steady his upset stomach and now labored panting. That dream had really thrown him out of whack. He couldn't handle eating anything right then. The cereal ended up dumped into the kitchen sink. Dipper desperately needed Mabel.

He headed out to the store, to see it busy as per usual, with a lengthy line of customers hoping to buy some gimmicky item Stanford Pines had constructed out of scraps from the dump. Wendy was taking her sweet old time, flipping through a magazine with one hand, while the other placed the money from customers into the cash register. "W-Wendy, have you seen Mabel?"

"I think she's outside with Stan!" Wendy called back, without even glancing up.

Usually, Dipper would try to talk more to the teen he had a crush on, but Dipper just wanted to find his sister. His anxiety wasn't settling down. There was a discernible tremble running through his body and his breathing was shallower than usual. That usually meant that a panic attack was on its way. Dipper needed to find his sister before it hit. He went outside to discover Stan weaving tales about Gravity Falls to a couple of tourists. Mabel wasn't around. Dipper needed to ask his great-uncle where his sister was, but the man was only half-way through his rehearsed lies. If he interrupted it might cause the potential customers to leave and make Grunkle Stan angry with him. Dipper fidgeted as he scanned the outside, from his place behind the screen door. She was nowhere to be seen. He accidentally released a choked whimper of distress. He hoped that the whimper wasn't loud, or this would become humiliating. His eyes widened when, when his great-uncle ceased speaking and turned around to spot him. Oh man, Stan was so going to mock him now for making that wimpy sound.

Stan had heard the odd whimper, turning to reveal it was Dipper that produced the noise. He began to grin, intending to mock the preteen, but imminently dismissed the idea when he studied him. Even though the screen door made things difficult for him to see through, he could tell that it was his great-nephew was immensely upset. He hadn't been aware that the kid was there, until Stan heard what strangely sounded like a whine. This wasn't the usual type of upset though, where Dipper was simply complaining about what stupid thing Mabel had done this time or how hard summer vacation had been for him. Stan always rolled his eyes at those moments, wondering how the preteen had even survived at home. Evidently though, this was completely different sort of upset. He had instantly felt a bit of worry pool in his heart. Completely ignoring the potential customers for once, he went over to the screen door and pulled it open. The elder man removed his fake eye patch, shoving it in his pocket, to get a better look at his great-nephew. Dipper was pale as a ghost and looked a bit surprised about his presence. This was actually important that meant. He released a sigh and grasped Dipper's thin arm with his thick hand. Dipper's surprise increased, as Stan pulled him into the Mystery Shack. They went past the lengthy line of customers and a distracted Wendy, into the hallway separating the shop from the living quarters. Dipper appeared even more frightened by this point. Stan knew what part of the reason was.

"Kid, I ain't mad at you. I just wanna know why you look like somebody died?"

Dipper began to release speedy breathes by this point, but managed to ask in between them. "W-Where's M-Mabel?"

"...That's it? God, you scared me, kid! I thought you were gonna say something like you found some dead body. I don't know where she is," Stan replied. A frown made way to his face. "Ugh, I lost some potential customers cause of this!"

Much to Stan's surprise, Dipper abruptly dashed out of the hall. Stan face-palmed after a moment. "Ugh, its probably something more."

Stan made his into the living room area, realizing Dipper wasn't there. He groaned. The kid had to go upstairs. He hated the stairs, they always made his joints hurt. Stan frowned. How did the hell did he climb a freakin' water tower, take on an army of zombies, and attack a pterodactyl, but only ached when he climbed the stairs? He shrugged after a moment and proceeded up to the twins' room. Stan intended to get down to the bottom of this (and maybe even apologize for blaming Dipper about the loss of customers if he was feeling generous). What he didn't expect though, was to discover his great-nephew, curled up on Mabel's bed, hyperventilating. Stan felt this was a bit of an overreaction, but then felt bad about yelling at the kid like that. He was even clinging onto his sister's pillow, as if it was a substitute for Mabel herself. Stan cursed, not caring about watching his language around Dipper at the moment.

Stan perched himself on the edge of the bed, knee joints creaking in protest. "Kid...Look, uh, don't tell anyone, but I'm, uh... sor... sor... sorrrrrrr... sorrrrrrrrrrr... Augh! I can't even say it. Look, I didn't mean it was your fault and...you ok?"

Dipper was staring blankly at him and squeezing the pillow tighter, trembling violently. Stan rubbed his neck uncomfortably, having no idea what was wrong. Was he truly that upset about the comment he made about the customers? It was honestly frightening him. "Uh, w-why are you doing that?" Still no reply. "Kid, I'm g-gonna, uh leave if you don't tell me why you look like you're having a panic attack, so say something!"

Dipper viciously nodded, throwing Stan completely off. "Wait, you _are_ having a panic attack?"

Dipper didn't answer, which was enough of an answer in itself. "Ah, shit. Uh, well I'm not sure what to do?"

Stan fidgeted, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by this predicament. "Uh, what...what, uh, do you want me to do?"

Half of Dipper was floored at how willingly Stan wanted to help. The other half was screaming as memories of last night's dream drowned his mind. His mind was bouncing back and forth liked a pinball at the moment, causing it to be difficult to think properly. Dipper couldn't even formulate words right now due to how chaotic his mind was and how erratic his breathing was. So, he did the only thing he thought that would convey what he wanted in that moment. He uncurled himself from around the pillow, and reached a trembling hand out to take hold of Stan's sleeve. His great-uncle nearly gawked as he realized Dipper wanted comfort from him of all people. "Uh, look, I ain't too good at all that mushy comforting stuff and besides why would you wa-"

He ceased speaking as he realized Dipper was beginning to place a death grip on his arm. "Ok, ok, fine! But, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Stan used the heels of his feet to slip off his shoes. He then swung his achy legs up onto the bed, and scooted over to sit against the wall, next to his distressed great-nephew. Dipper immediately curled up into his side and Stan stiffened. He had no idea what possessed him to go through with this. He had never been any good at comforting people. He recalled once in his freshman year, around when he first started to date Carla McCorkle, her dog Corkie had to be put down. Corkie had finally gotten to the ripe, old age of 14, but had to be let go due to his chronic aches and pains. Honestly, Stan was skittish around dogs, reminiscing on all his run-ins with those junkyard ones in New Jersey as a boy. A shortcut to his elementary school had been through that junkyard and he shuddered at the memories of what those dogs had done to him. He never informed Carla of this though, afraid she would stop dating him since he didn't like them all that much. When she had come crying about it to him though, he had to awkwardly stand there while Carla clung to him, eyes full of tears. Stan had quickly come up a moving speech about how much he would "miss the little fella". Being too consumed in her grief, Carla was none the wiser that he was making it all up. Stan was used to dishonesty and fraud, not sympathy and comfort. This situation with Dipper though, was a bit different. He was fairly certain that his great-nephew would notice he was lying if he told him a false story full of no emotion.

"Uh, uh, there, there?" He told Dipper, patting his back. Stan had witnessed this technique a couple in times in those sappy romance movies (not that he watched them). He wasn't sure if this the correct way to comfort, since it was from a movie, but felt successful when he heard a laugh in between the preteen's heaving breathes. "You better not be laughing at me, kid."

He felt Dipper shake his head in his side, denying that he was. Stan could feel the brunet's whole frame shaking though and was beginning to get even more worried since he wouldn't quit all that hyperventilating. "Dipper, what else do you want me to do? You're...you're wheezing is kinda worrying me, kid."

Dipper thought he was astounded before, but was now beyond that. Stan wanted to actually do something to ease he suffering? His chocolate eyes stared into Grunkle Stan's uneasy ones, realizing that he truly wanted to help him get through this. With this thought in mind, he was able to hoarsely rasp the solution in-between breaths. "Talk."

Stan mused on that answer. He was aware that one of his strong suits was talking, as long as it didn't involve comforting with words. Stan had this incredible ability to narrate tales in such a way, that he could effortlessly entertain his audience. He was confident that he could do this. What to recount to Dipper though? Well, how about that time when he went to the bank and tricked that clerk int-wait, don't want Dipper to steal his great ideas. Or how about that time after Carla left him for that hippie, he had found those two women at that one club and convinced them to have a thr-hell no, the kid was too much of a wimp to hear the epic conquest he had that night. Well what about that time in Mexico when-Perfect. And so, he rambled on to the preteen next to him, recounting a story about the time he was nearly arrested by crossing the border from Mexico to the U.S., illegally carrying several South American fish with him, and the car chase that had occurred due to that.

_~!6-5-1-18/9-19/8-5-18-5!~_

Mabel, on the other hand, was discovering one of the most massive mysteries to secretly haunt Gravity Falls, for the span of nearly four decades.

_End Chapter 1_

**Don't worry, I'll be bringing up what those eerie sights and sounds were pretty soon. I just wanted to convey that Dipper is having some serious emotional issues at the moment and for Stan to realize it. It will be more Mabel centered next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Mabel wasn't quite sure how she even became involved with this whole situation in the first place. It may of all started with Soos. The task was simple enough: find the screwdriver. Why? She, being the generous preteen she was, decided to assist Soos with fixing the sink, the Pines family having discovered that the garbage disposal had quit on them. The event had occurred when Dipper was washing the dishes yesterday and the machine decided to abruptly stall when he was scraping chucks into it. Their Grunkle Stan had told Dipper to step aside, since he was "capable of handling this". Apparently he wasn't capable of handling it though, as the disposal roared to life, projecting pieces of shredded food into his face, before halting its activity once more. Stan hadn't been exactly happy about the event and had threatened to "kill" the "darn" machine. He would of succeeded too, if Dipper hadn't convinced him to tell Soos to fix the sink, instead of destroying it. And now, Mabel had traveled down the very same hall that she had went down from that _one_ night. No spine-chilling sights or feelings this time though, much to her relief.

Most of what had been previously stored from the day the twins discovered the room, still sat there, untouched. Stan hadn't wanted anyone to stay in that room in the first place, causing him to seem suspiciously protective of it. When questioned, he simply replied with "because I said so" in a voice full of more spite than usual. He had tentatively agreed though, after the twins harassed him for two days straight about it. His only rule for the handyman was not to touch anything or else there would be consequences. Soos's eyes had widened at this, swearing his loyalty aloud for his boss, promising to do no such thing. Stan had simply rolled his eyes, before grumbling about how annoying everyone that entered his life was. Dipper and Mabel weren't even entirely sure what the big deal was. It was just a bunch of random boxes and old, boring keepsakes cluttered together. There was no importance to it. Even that dusty calendar from 1975 was still up, proving the twin's theory that the room didn't seem significant enough to keep maintained. The only differences made were the updated bed sheets and a few of the handyman's supplies now being mixed into the mess.

Mabel entered the space and observed the clutter. "Oh boy, this is gonna be a heck of lot harder to find," She groaned. But, then the brunette grinned and placed her hands on her hips. "I'll find it though!"

She began to rummage through Soos's tool box, looking for the well-used gadget. When she didn't find it there, she had begun to tear the blankets off of the bed frame, and shook them out to determine if it was mixed up in them. Nothing there as well. Mabel finally peered under the bed and reached a hand beneath, feeling around. Just some dust bunnies. She giggled aloud at the term. It sounded so cute! The preteen went to stand, but froze when she saw movement in the corner of her eyes. She quickly rolled over onto her back to see if anybody or anything was there. Mabel's heart was thudding in her chest and she no longer felt giggly. The room was empty though. She released a sigh of relief. Mabel went to stand, once more, but stopped. A triumph grin spread across her face. The screwdriver was glinting, from a bit of sun reflecting off of it, under the wardrobe to her left. Mabel army-crawled across the floor, pausing before the ancient thing. She ducked her head under it and grasped the tool she had been seeking. Mabel lifted her head up as she pulled out, but roughly banged her head against it. "Owie!"

There was a quiet creak, as she squatted in place, rubbing the tender area. Mabel ceased her rubbing when she realized that the wardrobe door was what produced the creak. It was open by just a crack and Mabel realized it wasn't even a wardrobe, but in fact a writing desk concealed inside a wardrobe. A secret desk inside a secret room. Excitement welled up inside her. She stood and fully opened the doors to it. On the desk were dust covered papers, with all sorts of physics formulas and chemistry equations sprawled across them. A few books were stacked in one corner, topics ranging from quantum mechanics to the principle of relativity. A vintage Star Trek mug sat in the other corner, featuring the Enterprise from the original television show on it. The mug was filled with chewed up pens and pencils. A large, chipped mirror sat upon the back wall of the closet. Mabel screeched and jumped away when she saw the reflection was not of her own, but of a man. She tripped over a box behind her and the screwdriver flew out from her hand. The preteen immediately scrambled to get back up and peek into the mirror. It was simply her own face.

She turned away as she released a sigh of relief. "Whew! I thought I had turned into a man!"

The brunette whirled back around to further explore the work space, but froze once more. The man had returned, his hands pressed up against the mirror like he was on the other side. His large nose was balanced out by a smooth square chin, a distinct dimple on it. His arms and chest were covered in a tight, black shirt, showing off his muscular figure. The messy brown hair, reminded her of Dipper's, sticking out in random angles, appearing like he didn't brush it ever. Nonetheless, he was young and handsome in appearance. The background of the mirror looked like the room she was in, but the colors were the opposite. They appeared to be darker, as if it were night, instead of day. Oh no. This was not happening.

Two pairs of chocolate eyes stared at each, before Mabel whispered, barely breathing. "W-What are you...?"

A look of disbelief crossed his face as his mouth began to move. Mabel wasn't hear anything though, much to her puzzlement. She studied his lips, attempting to decipher what was coming from them. "Moo, ran, knee, he? Is that Japanese or something?"

He face palmed. Mabel giggled at him, initial fear fading away. "Sorry, it's just I can't really hear you."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then seemed to have an idea, for his face lit up. He breathed heavily onto the glass, causing a dense haze to appear over it. A finger poked through the haze and began to move, creating a message. " 'em ees nac uoy'. What the haydoodle does that mean?"

A arm rubbed vigorously over the message, erasing it. He fogged up the mirror once more, before rewriting the sentence. It read, "You can see me."

"Well duh! Of course I can see you, silly!"

"No one else has fully seen me."

"What does that mean? Are you playing hide-and-go-seek?!" She excitedly asked.

The corners of his mouth tipped upwards at her enthusiasm. "No, none have been _able_ to see me."

"That's weird. Is it because you're hiding in a mirror?"

"I'm not hiding in it. It's just the easiest way for me to see others."

"Wait, have you been spying on everyone in the Shack?"

He frowned. "Not exactly. Well, at least not on purpose."

"Ok, cause I was gonna say that if you've seen me that one night with the puppets...in my room...and I did that one _thing_...yeah, uh, then this conversation is gonna get really awkward, really quick."

He blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. "What thing?"

"Uh, nothing, haha." She replied, obviously suspicious.

The man decided to move on, beginning to feel as if he didn't want to know what she was speaking about. "...I was right when I thought you saw me _that_ night though."

Mabel blinked. "What night?"

"When you dropped your water. I apologize for that by the way. I was simply studying the constellations and the back door was the best place to do that."

"Wait, but that was Grunkle Stan!"

"I'm not sure what a Grunkle is, but I'm guessing you're talking about Stanford Pines. And, he appeared in the doorway when you looked."

"What?! That was you? You scared the heck outta me!"

"I apologize, again."

Mabel gave him a thoughtful look. "Wellllllll, I didn't have a heart attack, so it's all good, I guess," She thought for a moment, before asking. "You know Grunkle Stan?"

"Well," He stopped writing and stared off into the distance. Snapping out of his daze though, he continued on. "I suppose I did, a long time ago."

Mabel wasn't all that sure about that answer. It made her wonder if the age he appeared to be was in fact his actual age. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even sure if he was human. She made a pouty face. And he was so cute too, not fair! If Dipper was here, she was sure he would know right away. Or search for the answer in the journal. Though, she supposed simply asking would probably work as well. "So, what are you? Like a magic mirror man or something?"

"I-"

Mabel's head jerked away before she could finish reading it, due to Soos calling out her name, asking where she could possibly. She suddenly remembered why she even came in there in the first place. Ah, she became distracted. Curse her distractible personality! Mabel whipped her head back to finish reading his message, but saw the fog and writing had vanished already. Well, poo. Mabel would have to find out what was written later. "I have to go now," The man appeared to be dispirited as she told him this, discourage etched onto his young face. The dispiritment appeared to age him, provoking a feeling of familiarity in Mabel at the appearance. She beamed at him though. "Don't worry; I'll come back later!"

And Mabel was gone, leaving the disheartened man all alone, in the darkness, where he had been trapped for decades.

_~!9/1-13/19-20-1-14-12-5-25!~_

Stanford Pines wasn't entirely certain of what was occurring in his great-nephew's head, but he knew it wasn't pretty. Dipper had a difficult time focusing on what Stan had recounted to him, but Stan had continued on since it appeared that it had made the preteen relax. After getting to know the twins better over the course of this summer, he came to the conclusion that Dipper was a "worry-wart" as Mabel had dubbed him. Stan had gotten a kick out of that phrase the first time Mabel used it and had later on teased a blushing Dipper about it when she was outside playing with Waddles. The elder man wasn't aware though that the phrase "worry-wart" was an underestimation. The preteen had had a full blown panic attack right in front of him for God's sake! This was beginning to be more serious than what Dipper had led him to initially believe though. This gave reason for Stan to suspect that Dipper had endured several of these attacks in his lifetime, for he acted as if he knew what exactly was needed to calm down. And there was no way in hell that his sister didn't notice either.

Stan frowned at this. He understood that the twins kept secrets (like the journal he had been searching for) and he was alright with that. As long as it didn't put their lives in danger (ok, so the journal put the twins in danger, but that didn't count since the whole town was dangerous). But, for Mabel to not even decide to inform her own great-uncle of Dipper's condition when they lived under his roof pissed him off. He deserved to know. He was their guardian for the summer for crying out loud! And, if he didn't ensure their safety, his nephew would kill him. That brought him to the next topic; did their parents know? Stan realized that his nephew would of never told him though, since they hadn't spoken for over 20 years. It was their mother that had communicated with him, so that the twins could spend the summer here. He wondered though, if them coming over had anything to do with what was going on with Dipper. Why didn't their mother inform him though? He swiped a hand wearily down his face. Stan needed to have a conversation with a certain bubbly preteen and possibly her mother later on.

Not wanting to disturb the sleeping brunet after what he had gone through so recently, he scooped the boy up into his arms, and gently tucked Dipper into his own bed. He immediately rolled onto his side, snuggling his pillow, muttering Wendy's name. Stan rolled his eyes. Dipper's crush on the cashier was so obvious that it sickened Stan. Ugh, young love. He shuddered at the very thought. Wendy obviously saw him as a little brother, and would bet all his money that she would never see him as anything more. Dipper had no chance with her. He went to the door, hand resting on the light switch as he observed the snoozing form of his great-nephew. Stan would never admit it to anyone, but he thought of the twins as his own, even though he had known them for only half a summer. That grieved him as he thought about it. His nephew had disliked him so much, that he had never known until recently that the kids even existed. A month ago, Stan would of scoffed at the idea of letting family back into his life again. Now though, he would do anything for them. Even die if he had to. He hadn't been able to feel so much for anyone since he lost the two he treasured most. They had-Stan shook the thoughts that anguished him from his mind. "Night, kid."

The light went out and the door clicked shut. Dipper stared with stilted, drowsy eyes at where his great-uncle had previously stood. A tiny smile curled onto his face as he did so. The brilliant white glow of the moon caused shadows to materialize in the attic. He wasn't anxious though, thanks to Stan. The shape of a triangle rested ominously upon the back of the door. Not anxious at all for the events to come. Dipper closed his eyes.

_Chapter 2 End_

**Chapter 3 will be up sometime next week!**


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. And I also have a bit of a warning for this chapter. It's an insult to the mentally handicapped and is only used to convey preconceptions of a time period.  
**

Mabel was seated at the oak kitchen table, hands gripping the edges of her chair so tightly, that her fingers turned white. Her posture was rigid, in suspension for what may occur. She gulped nervously as she stared into the face-of-evil. The face-of-evil was, in actuality, her great-uncle glowering at her from the seat across the table, silent as stone. There was a twitching smile present on Mabel's face, that was gradually fading the longer Stan stared her down. She knew exactly what he was doing; putting fear into her before berating her for whatever she had done wrong. Mabel just wasn't sure what she had done wrong this time. It must of been exceedingly unsatisfactory though, due to the amount of venom in his gaze. Yes, Mabel didn't know what she had done, but she was beginning to experience a feeling of disappointment aimed towards herself.

"Uh, Grun-"

"Mabel, why the hell didn't you or your folks find it convenient to tell me that Dipper has panic attacks?"

She cringed at this and her smile completely dropped from her face. So, that was why Grunkle Stan was so pissed off; he had discovered the secret. The one her mom clearly expressed that she should never tell Stanford Pines. There was a fear from her mom that he would send the children back when he discovered that Dipper had some "issues" as her mom had labeled them. Gravity Falls had been so beneficial for Dipper though, that his near everyday anxiety attacks had been eased into a near nonexistent state. There had only been three cases of an attack this summer thus far. One was when Robbie had threatened to beat him up that time when Wendy had gone camping with her family. There was also the night after they had made their escape from the bunker, and finally after Mabel's sock puppet opera that he had his worse one. Those last two were understandable though, since Mabel was shaken up herself afterwards. She knew how she felt about the opera though, was nothing to compared to how Dipper must of felt about a demon possessing his body. And his sister never noticing this fact. Those were thoughts to linger on later though, due to her guilt gradually filling her up. Mabel pitifully hung her head. "...Did Dipper or my parents tell you?"

"Neither, actually. He had a panic attack in front of me."

Her head snapped up at this, chocolate eyes wide. "WHAT?! Is he ok?! What did you say?! Ho-"

"Clam down, will you? He's ok now. Just sleeping. I don't know what happened, but he came to me all upset, asking for you."

Mabel appeared stricken. Stan had never encountered such an expression on the exuberant preteen before. If she was that concerned by her brother, where was she? "So..._Where_ were you?"

Her face abruptly switched to a secretive appearance. "Uh, I was just, uh helping Soos all day today."

Stan detected a lie mingled into that statement. The man was a conman for a reason. He decided not to push it at the moment though, since he had bigger fish to fry. His irritation had evolved to anticipation by this point. "Ok...uh can you...y-you explain this _thing_ about Dipper?"

A look dismay had taken over her appearance, another surprising thing to witness. Mabel's emotions seemed to be bouncing all around. The older man accounted it to her concern about her twin brother though. "Dipper...Dipper has always been a worry-wart about...about everything. He was b-born like that. It got...it got pretty bad though," Her voice was beginning to shake a bit. "He kept having...t-those attacks and, uh well Mom and Dad had t-take him to a doctor after, uh this really bad one...H-he said Dipper had..." Mabel actually had to pause to swallow down the growing urge to cry and take control of her emotions."G-Gener...generalized anxiety disorder."

Stan licked his lips nervously. He had no idea what that was and was confident he would not like the answer to that question he was about to ask. "And, uh, w-what is that?"

"Um, when...when somebody has, uh is super worried a lot...and, um panics about it...T-They...they made him stay at a hos...hospital for a while and, uh tried giving him...medi-medicine, but it stopped w-working..."

Stan could tell his grand-niece was having a difficult time elucidating the situation and he himself was having a difficult time understanding it. He knew this was a fragile topic though that needed to be thought on. Back in his day, the people that went to mental hospitals or were medicated for their behavior were inhumanely classified by society as "retarded" or even "freaks". It was the norm and no one thought it any bad to label someone as such. Stan remembered the stories of what went on in these "asylums" and the fear of simply having an odd characteristic would place him in one of those and be rejected by all that knew. No one thought it bad if these people were being punished for how they were though, as long as it didn't affect themselves. That was just how it was back then. He still felt lingering unease about those stories, even though he knew that they were treated much more humanly now. In the end, it was common knowledge that all these prejudices were nonsense and these individuals were just like anyone else. Growing up in the 50's and 60's though, had made certain preconceptions be embedded into his mind until the day he would die.

"Is...he like, uh you know?" Stan nervously began, feeling concern flare in his heart about the idea.

Mabel frowned, trying to make sense of what was being asking. "No?"

"Like, uh...retar-"

Mabel immediately identified the beginning of the word, having this not be the first time someone had attempted to use it. The twins had had their fair share of school tormentors in their 13 years of life and knew what usually went on in their minds. She was completely caught by surprise though, that her great-uncle would even attempt to say such an appalling thing. "NO."

Stan jolted at the abnormal amount of venom in her tone. "Then...why is he like uh, like all screwed up in the head?"

Mabel stared at him blankly for a minute or so as Stan waited for her answer. "...Great-Uncle Stanford, I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Then, without even answering his question, she left the kitchen. Stan sat there, trying to make sense of what happened. There was a feeling of astonishment of how Mabel addressed him before going upstairs, but even worse was the dawning realization of what had been running through his head and what had came out of his mouth. Stan ran a hand down his face, releasing a sigh. Even though he had been influenced by society back in his day, Stan was able to learn over time that what everyone said wasn't necessarily true. The man had changed his discrimination against those individuals by simply learning to tolerant them. There had now been additional change in his view though, now that someone related to him had an issue. Why the hell did Stan even think that Dipper was screwed up though? There was absolutely nothing wrong with his great-nephew, he simply needed help. There must have been something wrong with Stan though. The worse things always came out of his mouth. "Augh, I'm so stupid."

_~!14-15-20/2-18-15-11-5-14!~_

Breakfast was a tense affair the next morning, with the whole family displaying varying expressions on their faces. Stan peered guiltily at his great-niece, while she in turn scowled murderously at her scrambled eggs, stabbing them viciously with her fork. He gulped. Stan knew he screwed up big time last night, as per usual it seemed. Mabel could strike fear into him when she had the desire to, and that desire was quite present at the moment. There had to be a way to fix this situation. Dipper on the other hand, was alternating between blushing in embarrassment at his great-uncle, due to the events of yesterday, and shooting confused glances at his sister about her uncommon behavior. Yes, overall, it was an awkward meal for the Pines.

"Well, uh I-I think we should open shop now!" Stan broke the silence and avoided eye contact with Mabel, who had turned her murderous gaze to him.

Dipper's eyes flickered in between the both of them, realizing some incident had occurred between the two of them, possibly when he was sleeping. He felt worry that he might be the cause, but immediately squashed that thought, berating himself for thinking everything revolved around himself. Dipper decided to avoid asking what was going on and instead made his way to the store, following Stan, while peering over his shoulder at his still sitting sister. It was just as Soos came in for work, helping prepare for opening, that Mabel decided to join the others. Stan pointedly ignored the burning sensation of being watched from behind and flipped over the "**OPEN**" sign. He frowned as he examined the store. "Corduroy is late, _again_."

Dipper discreetly smiled at this, as he unlocked the cash register. Wendy had not been on time once since she was originally hired. Stan only kept her since no one in town trusted the egotistical Mr. Mystery enough to work for him. That, and the pay was the worse in the state, coming in at only $5.08 an hour. Wendy only worked there though, due to her father insistence that she work like her brothers, instead of sitting around all summer. It was at this moment, that Wendy strolled in and causally waving to everyone. "Hey, guys."

Stan glowered at her. "You're late, _again_!"

Wendy smiled. "Good morning to you, too, Stan."

His eyes narrowed. "What did I tell you about calling me that? I'm your boss, Corduroy!"

"Look, 'boss'," She used her fingers to make quote marks as she said this. "Are you going to stand here all day, yelling at me about how late I am, or you going to take care of the customers?" She asked, causally pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Through the window of the gift shop, an elderly couple, that clearly were not from around the area, were milling about. They didn't seem to even notice the Shack as they took photographs of the trees in the area. Stan's mood lifted considerably, forgetting about his employee, and smacked his hands together with a conspiring look. Without a moment ado, he went outside beginning his rehearsed speech. "Welcome, to the great and mysterious Mystery Shack!"

Wendy went behind the cash register and smirked at Dipper. Dipper smirked back at her. A crisp smack came from the HI-5 given to each other, as Dipper complimented her distraction. "You really know how to get rid of Grunkle Stan."

"Yeah, he's pretty easy to trick. You just have to mention cash and-oh my god, did I tell you that time I was closing up the shop and I heard some like noises in the back, so I went to investigate and found Stan like making out with a dollar?"

Dipper started laughing as he imagined this."No way!"

"Yes way! He was all like slobbering all over it!" Wendy told him. There was a pause as they visualized this disturbing idea, before both stared at each other, and shuddered. "Let'ssss talk about something else."

"How about how much of a douche Great-Uncle Stanford is?" Mabel coldly interrupted from a display rack of tacky postcards next to the cashier register.

Wendy and Dipper both gawked at Mabel in shock. Neither were even aware that Mabel used that type of language, much less about Stan. The twins were adamantly against cussing or using vulgar language in general. In fact, they even had a cuss jar, that occasionally Wendy had to put change in, and Stan regularly dropped pennies with mutterings of complaints. But, Mabel calling Stan a 'douche' surprised Dipper to no end though. Using his full name as well further astonished him. He thought over the words and suddenly felt anger swell up in himself. Grunkle Stan may of been a lot of things, but he didn't think the man that. "Ok, Mabel, ever since you woke up this morning, you've been all grumpy, and I don't know why! What's going on?!"

Mabel gulped, immediately feeling guilty now that she caused her brother to get upset. She stood by her statement though and wasn't going to suddenly change her mind. Stan had no right to call her own brother that vile word. And Mabel didn't want to cause Dipper to become aware that Stan had nearly condemned that name to him. "Nothing! Nothing at all!"

Dipper marched up to her, having none of the usual anxiety coursing through his veins at the moment. "No, you're going to tell me why you're acting like this right now!"

Wendy knew this fight was beginning to escalate and needed to calm them down quick. She stepped near them, hands set in a placating gesture. "Now, wait a second, guys, we sh-"

Mabel yelled right over her though. "There's nothing to tell! Leave me alone!"

Mabel had began to turn away, but Dipper wasn't having any of it. He grabbed her shoulder, swinging her back around, and getting right into her face. "Mabel, stop being ridiculous and tell me what is going on! You're acting like a stupid immature kid an-"

"You wanna know what's going on?! Fine! What's going is that I told him about your anxiety and he called YOU A RETARD!" Mabel screamed back.

There was an stunned moment of silence as Dipper took in what she had released into the air. Then, suddenly remembering that Wendy was there, he turned to look at her. A dumbfounded face was on the ginger and he blushed in humiliation. The brunet's eyes welled with tears, before he suddenly sprinted out the front door. Stan turned from the potential customers, as he heard the screen door slam shut behind him. Dipper was barreling towards Stan and he attempted to intercept the upset preteen. Dipper clawed at the thick arms wrapped around him though, causing the man to release his grip. He shoved Stan away and sprinted into the forest of Gravity falls, leaving all to stand in stunned silence.

_~!-?-!~_

"What the hell is going on?!"

Wendy gaped at Stan and Mabel. "Um, I think I should, uh go."

She began to inch towards the front door, but was halted in her efforts as Stan grasped the back of her button down shirt collar. "Oh, no, you're staying here Wendy Linda Corduroy!"

She gulped, knowing that this was really serious. Wendy wasn't even aware that Stan knew her middle name. "L-Look, Mr. Pines, this sounds like a family thing, and, I don't think he even wanted me to hear about _that_ and, uh I probably shouldn't be anymore involved and like I doubt that Dipper wants me to hear anything more, an-"

"What _did_ you hear?"

"Urhhhh, that he has...anxiety." She finished in a whisper.

Stan let go of her and swiped a hand across his, what appeared to be weary, face. "Yeah, the kid does," His tone resumed its bitterness in the next part of his statement. "And if you tell anyone that, I wi-"

Wendy appeared hurt. She would never judge Dipper for an issue that wasn't even his fault. And he was her friend! Wendy would never reveal that unless he gave his consent to do so. "What? No, of course not! I would never do that!"

"Ok, ok, I believe you, now get out; you're done for today."

Wendy peered at Mabel. A curtain of hair hid her face, as her head hung. Stan stepped in front of Wendy, blocking her view of the brunette. "I said go home, Corduroy."

Wendy hurriedly removed herself from the property, as Stan turned to observe the unmoving preteen. "Ok, look, I understand what I said was completely uncalled for. I know. I just wanna tell you though that...uh, I'm not sure how to handle all..._this_," He informed her, gesturing to the air. "And, Kid, I...c-care about you two and I'm going to make up saying that to the both of you. Now, I don't know what happened, but I think I should go look for your brother. You can either sit here and sulk, or you can come help me," Stan concluded, feeling confident once more. Mabel gave no indication that she heard though. "...Ok, well, I'm gonna go now and when I come back, you and me are gonna have a talk about what happened."

He slammed the screen door shut as he sprinted into the forest, fearing that Dipper would have a panic attack in the forest, all alone.

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper had flopped down onto a fallen log, breathing heavily from, not only his journey from the Shack, but also nerves. He was delicately cradling his elbow, wincing at the pain in it, and watched red drip from in between his fingers. In his hurry to escape the Shack, Dipper had tripped over an exposed root, landing harshly on his side. His forearm had received the brunt of the fall on the harsh terrain, but only his elbow appeared to be steadily bleeding. The blood though seemed to produce a soothing effect, easing his hyperventilating and made him avoid the thoughts of Wendy's face, along with what his Grunkle Stan supposedly said. He was so consumed in attempting to ease his anxiety, that he didn't hear the crying until that moment though.

Dipper frowned, and studied the clearing. The pine trees surrounding said clearing, blocked most of the sunlight. Patches of it filtered through though, giving the impression that the grass was gleaming. Gnats lethargically floated about. There wasn't anyone in the area though. The brunet heard the sobs come from his left, in a thick gathering of pine trees. He wasn't all that sure if he should investigate the noise or not. It might of been some monster, tempting him with fake distressed sobs of a human, hoping to consume his scrawny body. Dipper shuddered at the thought, panic rising in him. He took a deep breath though and listened intently. Dipper was beginning to believe that it wasn't fake. The crying sounded genuine and it concerned him to hear anyone sound as distressed as this person seemed to be. He finally gathered his courage and cautiously made his way over there, swatting at the obnoxious insects.

Even though branches snapped noisily underneath Dipper's feet, the unknown person didn't cease their weeping. They might of been too consumed with grief to notice. He knew exactly how that felt, since most of the time his anxiety got the best of him, blocking all else from his overwhelmed senses. Dipper stopped before a bush, discovering that the crying was behind it. Dipper was beginning to, once more, think this was a bad idea. For whatever reason though, he forced aside part of the bush to expose who was there, attempting to believe that everything would be alright. Everything was not alright though, since he was not prepared for who it was.

It was Gideon Gleeful.

_Chapter 3 End_

**Originally, I wasn't going to add Gideon in this story, but I changed my mind. I haven't decided on how big of a role he'll have right now though. By the way, I took Wendy's middle name from her voice actress, Linda Cardellini. Anyways, thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

Mabel felt such a crippling wave of guilt encompass her, that her knees nearly gave out below her from the force of it. Her Grunkle Stan no longer stood before her and she briefly wondered when that had occurred. She had recollection of hearing garbled words from him, recognizing the timbre of his voice, but hadn't comprehended what was spoken. She was in too much of daze at the realization of what had been done merely minutes ago. Mabel couldn't even believe she told Dipper what had been said earlier, much less in front of the teenager he had a crush on. She staggered into the hall separating the shop from the living quarters and stumbled into a table sitting against the wall. Mabel distantly thought about her leg probably having a bruise on it later, but then realized she didn't care in the slightest. She rigidly gripped the sides of it to steady herself. Her hands were trembling though, causing it to become difficult to get a proper grip.

The lighting was subdued in this hallway, with the only source of it from the door leading to the shop, being slighting cracked open. Mabel could see the barest outline of her face though, on the vintage mirror set up above the table. She stared her reflection in the eyes and felt self-loathing well-up inside her very soul. One would think she was completely overacting, since this was a problem that could be easily fixed, but she feared it wouldn't turn out to be all that fixable in the end. She knew she screwed up significantly and was concerned with thoughts of what her brother would do all alone in the forest. The self-loathing increased full force and Mabel thought back on a day similar to this. She thought back to a year ago, back at her home in Piedmont. It had been a fairly typical day, at the beginning of the 6th grade. The twins had rode the bus, as per usual, to get to school. Mabel had stayed after school for art club that day though, while Dipper rode the bus back home. If she wasn't so absorbed in herself and her stupid after school activities, she would of realized that _that_ event would have occurred. Mabel would of realized that she would have come home to discover that h-

She flinched at the realization that she was no longer alone and that her reflection was not of her own. In the mirror, was the handsome man from the mysteriously hidden room. This time though, he held one of those washable blue Crayola markers in his right hand. A perturbed look crossed his face as he began to write across the mirror. "Are you alright?"

Mabel nodded fervently, a forced smile plastered to her face as she did so. The man appeared unconvinced as her smile lacked the usual spark in it and she knew that it did."I'm ok, I was just thinking about something...I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday."

The man still was evidently not convinced about the first half of the statement, but decided to move on when it was clear that she would not elaborate any further. He swiped across the mirror with a ratty wash cloth, erasing his previous message. "That's alright. You said you would come see me again, and now I have instead."

The smile was genuine now, the spark returned to it. "This sounds like one of those romantic reunion movies!"

The man laughed silently at her and lifted his left hand to reveal a ring on his finger. "First of all, you're too young for me. Secondly, I'm married."

"OMG, is there a mirror lady?!"

"No, no, there isn't. I'm not sure why you're so keen on this 'mirror people' idea. I don't actually live in the mirror."

"Well, yo-" Mabel cut herself off as she read what he wrote.

"I'm actually stuck in-between two worlds in a way."

She tilted her head. "...Whattttt?"

"I'll explain. Do you know Alice in Wonderland?"

"Yeah! It's that one movie where the girl goes to Wonderland and all those weird things happen to her. I love that one!"

"Yes, well that is the best way to explain my situation right now. In a way, I'm stuck in the 'rabbit hole' leading to Wonderland. Half way to that fantasy land and have way in reality."

Mabel thought on that. It made perfect sense to her. "So, you're just...stuck?"

His reflection nodded. A thought occurred to her though, sending a shiver down her spine. "...a-are you a...ghost?"

He frowned. "I don't think so."

He didn't think so? He wasn't even fully aware if he was alive or dead. _What if he wasn't alive?_ Stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead, never to escape his fate. Mabel began to feel a cold sweat break out on her skin. This wouldn't be the first time this had happened to her. It happened more regularly than she would care to admit. She wasn't even sure why she was surprised by this point though. After all, Mabel had always been able to see things that no one else was able to. Her breath ceased as her heart skipped a beat. This was not good. This was not good at all. She needed to get out of there right now. A smile was tensely plastered onto her face. "I s-should go."

He was able to see straight through her though and she knew it. "You're afraid."

Mabel cringed. He frowned and began to write more. "There isn't any reason to be. I'm positive that I'm not a ghost."

Her heart was thudding and she felt that he could hear it due to how loud it was. That's exactly what ghosts have claimed in the past to her. She needed to get out of here right _now_. Mabel couldn't even leave though; she was paralyzed by a mounting fright. The man attentively studied her, before asking. "How are you related to Stanford?"

"I-I-"

"Please, just tell me, I'm not here to cause any harm. I can see that you and your brother are related to him though, since you look similar to how he looked as a kid."

Mabel was trembling, unsure if she should answer. There was the fear though that he would grow angry and hurt her if she didn't. That wouldn't be a first either. "I...I'm his g-great-niece."

He gave her a startled look, causing Mabel to nearly release a whimper. "Is Alexander Pines your father?"

Her stomach dropped as she registered the question. "How d-did y-you know t-that?"

He appeared hesitant for but a moment, before confidently continuing on. "I wasn't sure if I could completely trust you, but I'm certain that I can now. My name is Stanley Pines Jr. Your father is my son."

"S-Son?"

"Yes. I guess in other words, I'm, well, your grandfather."

Mabel's tense smile grew, until her cheeks hurt. Grandfather? _Grandfather?_ _GRANDFATHER?_ She then promptly passed out.

"Well, this is problematic."

_~!20-23-9-14-19/18-21-14/9-14/16-1-9-18-19!~_

Gideon Gleeful and Dipper Pines stared at each other. Dipper stood there, cradling his injured arm, hat missing from his head. He momentarily wondered when he had lost it, but quickly dismissed the thought from his head when he focused once more on him. Gideon was curled into a ball, knees to chest. His pudgy arms were tucked against his chest, hands curled around each other, as if holding something there protectively. His cheeks had splotches of red, eyes puffy from crying. His eyes. They were a deep, cobalt blue. Weren't they usually a lighter color than that? Tears drizzling down his freckled face. His normally perfect hair was lopsided and had stray pieces sticking out in every which direction. Overall, he didn't appear as the usually creepy little boy that Dipper had grown accustomed to. He wasn't sure if this surprised him more or if the fact that Gideon wasn't in jail at the moment like he was supposed to be was. Dipper was going to ask about that, he truly was. Instead though, his question came out as something different.

"Is this the part were you try to kill me again?" Dipper received no answer though, as the distant voice of Stan calling for Dipper interrupted them. He sounded desperate, startling Dipper. He whirled around, searching for the man, but to no avail. The forest was all too dense to locate the elder man. He turned back when he heard underbrush crunching, to see that Gideon was gone. The brunet froze. It was almost like the 10-year-old had never been there in the first place. Dipper sucked in a shuddering breath, pushing down the rising panic. He could not have an attack here. There was no need to overreact about simply imagining someone being there with him. Dipper nearly screamed when he thought that statement. He did **not** see things! That was Mabel and no one else!...He only occasionally heard things in the darkness of the night, lurking in the back of hi-

"Dipper?" Stan was now gripping his shoulders and staring down at him. When did Grunkle Stan get here? The brunet thought he sounded worried, but his appearance screamed to him that he was more pissed off than anything.

"G-Grunkl-" Dipper began, but was interrupted.

"What the hell happened to your arm?"

Dipper gazed down at it and realized it was still bleeding. It actually appeared to be worse than before. The whole side of his forearm was scratched to high hell and both of his hands stung from the various cuts scattered across them. It didn't help that his knees were skidded up as well from the fall. He frowned. That couldn't be good. He might have to go to the hospital for his elbow. Just like after Mabel's silly sock opera, he had to go to the hospital to have his stab wounds from the forks sewn up. This time though, he wouldn't have to lie about where the bruises and other marks came from. He wouldn't have to squash down the guilt that he was the cause of the suspicious looks from the medical officials given to Stan. He wouldn't have to adamantly lie, so that Stan wouldn't be accused of abuse and they would be sent back home to Piedmont. "I-I tripped."

Stan narrowed his eyes at the 13-year-old. When Stan had to take Dipper to the hospital after that sock puppet opera Mabel had conducted, he was skeptical about the whole situation. He understood that most of the bruises likely came from that fall the twins had had. Mabel had to be checked over as well, revealing some bruising from her fall. Stan assumed that Dipper naturally had more bruising, due to him hitting the stage first. That was completely understandable. What wasn't understandable though, were the stab marks. Dipper claimed, when the nurse questioned him, that some wood pierced his skin when he hit the stage. Stan immediately picked up on the lie though. He wasn't a conman without reason. After avoiding the suspicious questions and Dipper being stitched up, he had asked him about it in the car. The preteen had simply repeated the claim though and Stan had eyed Mabel as he did so. She had been frowning. Stan knew then that his suspicions were right, due to Dipper's sister detecting it as well. He could tell that Dipper knew what he was thinking at the moment though. "I-I'm not lying. I tripped over a root."

Stan decided now was not the time to decide how truthful he was being, as it was more important to assess his injuries. "Kid, how long has that been bleeding?"

Dipper shrugged, not knowing precisely how long he had sat on that log. The elder man delicately took Dipper's arm into his hands. The brunet cringed as Stan inspected it. The elder sighed. "You're gonna need stitches on your elbow it looks like...You and your sister cost a lot of money, you know."

"At least I don't waste the tip jar money to buy a bunch of socks and wood for a musical."

"That's where all the money in there has been going?!"

Dipper laughed, feeling more like himself again. "She said she asked you and that it was ok."

"Well, that's just something more I have to talk to her about when I return!"

Dipper laughing unexpectedly came to a halt. The nervousness had returned. "...Grunkle Stan?"

Stan was now inspecting Dipper's left hand. "What?"

"Mabel said...some..._things_ back at the Shack."

He was rotating Dipper's hand to see if the bones in his wrist were alright. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like...that she told you about my...a-anxiety."

Stan took the preteen's other hand and began to do the same thing. "...Yeah, kid, she did."

"Oh..."

Stan squatted down after a moment, joints creaking, and preceded to prod the injured knees. Dipper observed the top of Stan's head, waiting to see if he would say anything more about the that. He didn't though. Dipper wasn't able to hold it in anymore, blurting out his next statement. "She also said that you said that I'm 'retarded'!"

Stan ceased his prodding and tenderly stood, patting the dirt from his trousers. This was delicate terrain and if he wasn't careful, this could blow up in his face. "Kid, you like history, don't you?"

Dipper wasn't sure where this was going, but he nodded anyway. Stan continued on. "Have you ever seen one of those old coots that complain about black people?"

Dipper nodded in reply. Stan decided this was in fact the right way to go about this. "You know they're like that, because everyone back in their day thought that black people weren't any good, right?"

"Yeah, that's what my teachers have said."

"Well, I was like that. Well, not exactly racist, but some...other things." Stan informed him.

Dipper appeared to be uncomfortable at this statement. "W-What are you talking about?"

"Ok, look, there were some, uh others, besides blacks and gays, that were considered...no good. And I was told by my p-pops for a long time that they weren't any good, so I just believed it. But, when I realized that it was stupid, I had a hard time getting over those habits. He wasn't all that big on blacks and gays, sure, but didn't make me as fearful about them as...with those o-others."

Dipper stared at him in surprise. "I-I thought you weren't scared of anything."

"Well, kid, I...I am. And the one thing my pop made me fear the most were people that were...h-handicapped...those people were listed as...as well s-stupid," Stan told his great-nephew. He was undoubtedly having a difficult time telling him any of this. "And, well, kid, when people tell you a thing for a long time, you start to get it...uh, stuck in your head. Being told that kid over there in the, uh wheelchair should be should mocked and the...kid that wants to...k-kill himself should be made fun of...and when your pop tells you...t-that those people were re...reta...well, you know...it really gets to you. And I sorta wanna tell you that, sometimes...I-I say thing I don't mean, because they just...got stuck in my head...out of habit...Do you, uh understand that?"

The brunet thought about what he was told. His Grunkle Stan was plainly regretful for what he had said earlier. And the reasoning made sense. You get pressured by everyone to think a certain way about someone and even if you shake off that pressure, you sometimes have a hard time rewiring your brain to say the right words. "...I...I think I get what you're saying."

"Good...I want to tell you something I've noticed over the years though."

"What?"

"That people are a bunch of bastards."

"Uh, is that supposed to be inspirational?"

"No, this is: Blacks, gays, and handicaps, are all normal people, just like me and you. And anyone that says otherwise is stupid."

Dipper blinked a few times, face a portrait of amazement. What Grunkle Stan told him just now was actually pretty inspirational, though the wording was unorthodox. Who knew his great-uncle had the ability to state such a thing? He knew though that wasn't just meant to be inspirational thought though. "So, in other words, you're sorry and didn't mean it?"

"...Whatever you think I said, kid."

A smile made its way onto Dipper's face at that. "I forgive you."

"Well, let's head back now. Looks like I have to drive you to the hospital. Again."

Stan began the trek back to the Mystery Shack, grumbling about how expensive the summer was turning out to be. Dipper though, remained behind, as he glanced over his shoulder. The forest was as peaceful as it had ever been, with all those mysteries hidden within. No Gideon Gleeful to be seen. Did he imagine it? Had he even really been there? He wasn't all that sure anymore. After a moment, Dipper sprinted to catch Stan, attempting to keep up with his longer strides. What did it matter anyways? He knew that even if he was imagining things, he knew his sister and great-uncle would be there to guide and support him along the way...How could of he known though, that they needed as much support as he did, silently screaming for relief from the events in their lifetime that perpetually tormented them?

_Chapter 4 End_

**Sorry for the OC!Stan. I tried my best with how I thought he would react in the situation. Anyways, I was really unsatisfied with the prologue and first two chapters after I posted chapter 3, so I updated them and I would appreciate if you viewers go back and read them. Please and thank you! :)**


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

A face of perplexity settled on Dipper, as he cradled his throbbing elbow, beholding the sight before him. Mabel laid on the tile floor, under the window of the kitchen. Sleeping. Waddles sat next to her, nudging her arm with his chubby snout. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had to admit it was pretty endearing once he got other the strange state he had discovered his sister in. Watching the display caused him to focus less on the pain in his elbow and the the thoughts of that disappearance act Gideon Gleeful apparently had performed in the forest earlier. She began to curl up on her side, hand sluggishly swatting at her pig. Waddles, in return, scooted closer and began to nudge the back of her head. Dipper laughed, surprised at how much more adorable the scene had gotten wh-Mabel was drooling all over the floor. He made a face. Not adorable. "Ew, Mabel."

Just then, Stan entered the kitchen, keys in hand. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed what Mabel was up to. "That better not be drool."

Dipper knew if he confirmed the answer he would probably not like the man's reply. "Uh, Grunkle Stan? Should we go now? I think it stopped bleeding, but it still hurts."

"Alright, alright, quit your complaining." Stan ordered him as they migrated outside.

Dipper wasn't all that surprised at the condition of the '65 Cadillac Sedan was in at the moment. The vehicle was encrusted with fresh bird crap, causing Stan to glower at his Stanley Mobile. "Ugh, those damn-uh, darn rats with wing."

"Grunkle Stan, I already know your cuss," Dipper informed the elder man as they settled in. Stan grumbled something that sounded like "shut it" in reply as he shoved the key in, bringing the ignition to life with a pathetic rumble. He frowned as it rattled nosily, before pounding his fist on the dashboard, effectively silencing it. "Really, its not too big of a deal.

"Look, I'm your guardian for the summer so I have to be 'good'." Stan enlightened him, using fingers for quote marks. Both of their seat belts went into the buckle with a 'click'.

Dipper raised a eyebrow. "We spent the night in a jail cell. I'm pretty sure that cussing is nothing compared to that."

"I though you hated cussing?" Stan questioned, as they made way down the road.

"I do. But, I'm not two, I can handle hearing cuss words. What are you so worried about anyways?"

"I ain't worried about nothing. I just doubt your folks would want you to come home with some new vocab."

"If they didn't freak out about the jail thing, which actually surprises me since Dad is so strict, then I doubt me cussing will bug them."

Stan gulped guiltily, eyes shifting to the side for a moment. "Yep, they definitely thought it was alright."

Dipper frowned deeply. "...you didn't tell them, did you?"

Stan could lie about anything. Expect on the topic of his nephew. "...Look, I just didn't think that they wo-"

"Oh my god! You never told them!"

"Kid, its not much of a big deal, I jus-"

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo-"

Dipper was bordering onto a panic attack within a few seconds of the revelation. Stan began to reply, but was cut off each time the preteen repeated his statement. He frowned, before pulling off to the side of the road, knowing he needed to calm Dipper before his anxiety overwhelmed him. He turned to his great-nephew, right arm settling on the top of the seat. His chest violently heaved, mouth gaped open with a face of shock. "Kid...Dipper. Dipper. DIPPER!"

Dipper jolted from the moment of hysteria, eyes wide, but effectively silenced. Stan decided to continue on, now that he had his attention. "Its ok. You and Mabel didn't get hurt, so there wasn't any reason to tell them."

"What do you mean 'there wasn't any reason'?!" Dipper blurted in a frenzy. Oh god, He was screwed. Disappointing his parents was the worse development for him to even imagine. And even disappointing them as much as to go to jail was much worse than would he could imagine. His parents would be upset about this development when they discovered it.

"Look, you don't actually have to tell them nothing. They would be none the wiser if yo-"

"I can't! It would drive me insane if I didn't tell them! I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, _I can't, I CA-_" Dipper's voice was rising in volume, hysteria returning.

"Alright, alright! If you have to tell them, at least wait until the two of you get back!"

Dipper paused in his repetition, taking deep breathes to calm his nerves. In, Out. In, Out. In, Out. Out, In. Out, In. That had been a close call, as he had nearly completely went off the deep end. He knew that doing so would of been a nightmare for his great-uncle. Dipper would never subject him to that, fully knowing that Mabel was capable of dealing with those moments. Now that his head wasn't so foggy though, he realized he could inform his parents of that situation when the summer was over and done with. If he just didn't think about it now, then he wouldn't panic. Put the worry off until later. He imagined jamming all of his concerns into a mental closet, and shoving the door shut. He'll open that door later on. He wasn't sure why Stan wanted for him to put it off until later though. "Uh, w-why?"

"It would just, uh be easier."

"How would it be easier to tell later?"

"It just would, now shut up, we're almost there." Stan ordered him, before pulling the vehicle back onto the road. Dipper still wasn't understanding why he would want the situation to be told later. He supposed that for the time being, all would be well. He just hoped that his parents wouldn't be too upset upon the revelation. That made him wonder what else Stan had conveniently not inform his parents of. Did his parents even know know about the the injuries he and his sister had received from the opera? He suspected they didn't. And now he had to get them again, hiding more than one trip to the hospital. They parked in a handicap space, the front of the Stanley Mobile producing a dent in the pole of the sign. Stan placed the photocopied and laminated parking pass onto the rear view mirror, before removing himself from the vehicle, as smoke rose from underneath the engine's hood.

_~!4-5-19-20-18-15-25/20-8-5/5-22-9-12!~_

"Kid, how old are you? Like eight?"

"I just turned 13 this summer, Grunkle Stan. You asked me the same thing last time we were here like a week ago." Dipper told him, rolling his eyes. That reminded him, those stitches on his arm needed to be removed since they were already here at the hospital. They were in the waiting room, Stan, much to his dismay, forced to fill out a form for Dipper.

"Well, why don't you fill this out yourself if you're gonna act lik-Oh, that's right, you can't, can you? So, why don't you stop being rude kid, and just answer the questions without all that talkback."

Dipper glared at Stan, but the elder was already back to filling it out. Much to his surprise, Stan didn't ask anymore questions in the span of nearly five minutes he filled the form out. He recalled Stan had asked a lot more questions last time he was doing one for him and Mabel. He had better not be writing down bullcrap, instead of his correct information. "Do you even know what I'm allergic to?"

Stan turned the clipboard to him, raising a eyebrow at his great-nephew's tone. "What do you think, kid?"

Dipper saw that the word, "Penicillin" was written in the cursive handwriting Stan used, on the black space. Evidently it seemed that his great-uncle had remembered nearly all of his information. Dipper blushed, embarrassed that he naturally assumed that Stan would recall as much as he obviously did. Neither didn't say anything else, until they were called in. They were brought to a examination room by the same nurse as last time they had come. She assessed his wounds, before nodding to herself. "Well, it looks like we'll have to put stitches in you, again, dearie."

Dipper nodded in reply, before she removed herself from the room to fetch the doctor. Stan was settled into the corner, intently reading a TV guide. He then muttered something about one of his shows. Dipper rolled his eyes and glanced over at the sink. It was in the shape of a triangle. What? That was weird. Why would someone make a a sink like that? This was like the 8th time this week he had seen a tr- The doctor entered. He blinked and then frowned at her. Her golden triangle earrings glinted in the light. That was another triangle. Feeling a bit unnerved, he looked to Stan, hoping for reassurance. He was still focused on the TV guide. Why was he surprised? Dipper jumped when he felt the prick of a shot in his bicep. "Now, that numbs you, so you won't feel a thing. I'll just take out these old stitches and apply the new ones to your elbow, alright?"

Dipper absent mindlessly nodded, observing her earrings. The golden light reminded him of another triangle he had last seen nearly a week ago. The triangle that had tricked him into giving up his body in exchange from a hint for that stupid password. _How about you let me give you a hint, huh?_ He felt a brief tug at his left arm, as the doctor swiftly removed the stitching. It didn't hurt per say, but produced a slight stinging on his healed over stab wounds. She seemed to approve of the healing, a face of satisfaction. Dipper felt uncomfortable at the sight of the scars on his pale flesh though. They just reminded him of the opera. She continued on, cleansing the blood from his new injury. Dipper watched as she applied the new stitches. It was as gross as the first time. He focused his gaze back on Stan. He had a bored expression on his face as he continued his reading. He had that face a lot. Why was he always so bored looking? Was it his default face? Or was it just hiding a different expression? And why was there a triangle on the front of the guide? He shook his head. There was no need to over analyze everything. It was a common shape, no need to associate it with _that_ dream demon.

"I'm finished, Dipper," She frowned at his palms. "I should clean those hands, too."

She pulled a cotton ball from a clear jar, dipping it in medical alcohol from the sink counter. He presented his hands to her and she preceded to rub the ball across them. The doctor finally squatted down to get a better view of his scratched knees. She presented him with the option of either flaming triangles or a Hello Kitty bandaids. Dipper felt a cold sweat cover him as he studied the flaming triangles. _Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me._ Nope. Finally, he chose the Hello Kitty ones and she covered his knees in them. "There! You should be good now. Just be careful when you're playing in the woods next time."

Dipper grunted in reply, before the doctor left. Stan immediately hopped up. "We done? Great, let's go."

The magazine was tossed back onto the triangle-shaped side table, before Stan waltzed out. Dipper gulped thickly as he stared at the table. He had caught the glimpse of the bold lettering of yesterday's newspaper, below the guide. He wasn't sure what was possibly worse; the idea of a certain triangle dream demon returning to further haunt him, or this predicament. He shivered as he realized who he thought he imagined in the forest today, was actually not his imagination. **GIDEON GLEEFUL RELEASED FROM PRISON**. He followed his great-uncle.

_~!-?-!~_

Mabel was no longer passed out on the kitchen floor or even in the house for that matter. Waddles appeared to be absent as well. Stan knew exactly why his grand-niece was no longer present. It was her attempt of avoiding the eventual conversation they would have on the events as of late. They would be having that conversation soon though, Stan promised himself. Dipper left, mumbling a subdued 'good night'. Stan accounted it to the painkiller given to him. Hopefully he wouldn't have to wait as long as he usually did for his great-nephew to fall asleep, so that he could sneak into the laboratory. He removed his fez and set it on the side table, next to the reclining seat. He would wait about half an hour until he would go down to the lab, he decided, just to be sure that Dipper was completely asleep. He needed to do a few adjustments on the portal and further study one section of the photocopies on Journal 3. For now though, he would enjoy the showing of "The Duchess Approves: Two".

About two hours later, Stan entered the lab. Clad in his household attire, he sat in his swivel chair, listening to the distinct humming produced by the portal. He was honestly surprised that it hadn't blown out yet or caused a blackout like last time. It required constant energy consumption to maintain it at the moment. Fearing it would refuse to start up again if he ceased doing so, he hadn't let up. Stan was aware on how dangerous that could be. Over the years, he had taught himself through the journals and books in his brother's old room, the workings of the portal. Sure, he didn't completely understand the process, but he understood the general concept of it, which appeared to be enough to work the thing. The portal had began to produce that distinct humming noise a few days ago though and he needed to read up on how to repair that. The photocopies would explain to him exac- When he slid open the small cabinet to find them, they were gone. And all three of the journals. Stan stared blankly at the spot for a period of time.

"SHIT!"

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper hadn't taken the painkillers prescribed to him. He lay awake in his bed, covers bunched up around his feet, attempting to reduce the heat he felt in the attic. His shirt stuck to his back, drenched from the ever present sweat clinging to his skin. There would be no sleeping tonight, as he would be fighting off the pain that ached him and the thoughts barreling through his head. _Haha! Pain is hilarious! _Dipper frowned. His mind released echos on events of the past few days and it annoyed him to no end. He sat up and began pulling the damp shirt off. It had been pretty hot the last few days and with his room being closer to the sun, had made it stifling in there. Piedmont never became so overbearingly hot as it was now, so he wasn't quite used to it. _  
_

He rolled onto his side, attempting to become more comfy in an effort to fall asleep, but froze when he witnessed a bright bluish glow from the window. Why was the moon so bright? He removed himself from bed and peered out the window. The forest was glowing. He blinked a few time in confusion and the glow disappeared. What was that? Dipper stood there, before making the decision to investigate. His anxiety screamed that it was a bad idea, but Dipper shoved it into his "Worry Later Closet". He decided to put on a new t-shirt, this one being a forest green one, and slipped on his shoes without the socks. He tiptoed to the living room, but relaxed when realizing Stan wasn't there. He must of been asleep. It was a bit early though, being as it was only 11:00 PM, while Stan usually went to his bedroom around midnight. Dipper headed out the backdoor and onto the porch, observing the forest. There were no mysterious lights as far as he could see. He wanted to investigate further, but doing so would break the only rule Stan had given the twins when they first came here; Don't go into the woods at night. He bit his lip, before deciding on breaking the rule. The forest was just as frightening as it was in the daytime, so what was the harm in doing so?

The underbrush crunched noisily beneath his feet, causing Dipper to cringe a few times. It appeared that the forest was quiet, compared to the chattering birds heard in the daytime. And he could barely see a thing. He was able to see the barest of a outline from the light of the quarter moon. In all hindsight, Dipper realized that going into the woods at night was not the best idea, especially since he had injured himself earlier today in the very same area and the wound was throbbing worse than before. It wasn't as bad as the pain he had from the forks being stabbed into him though. _Boy, these arms are durable! _The glow was up ahead, dimmed though compared to the light he witnessed earlier. What in the world is that?_  
_

After passing a few pine trees into a clearing, he finally was able to see what produced the glow blue light. Dipper frowned at what was before him. There was a circle of tiny white candles, topped with jade hued flames in the clearing. And, the center of the candles was Gideon Gleeful. He was on his knees, cradling the very same mystic amulet Mabel had destroyed, and was whispering to it. There wasn't even a crack present on the amulet, much to Dipper's growing confusion. He stepped closer, on the border of candles, listening to what Gideon was speaking. "...destruere malum, Destruere malum, destruere malum, destruere malum, destruere malum..."

The 10-year old began to increase the phrase in volume, causing the flames to expand. Dipper took a step back, producing a 'crack' from the branch beneath his shoe. Gideon's head jerked up from the stone to stare at him. They stared into each others eyes, Dipper realizing his eyes were flickering back and forth between a jade hue and a dark blue. Gideon's face contorted in pain, and realized a hiss as he dropped the now steaming amulet. The flames exploded in a furious expansion, Dipper staggering back from the intensity of them. Then, as soon as it began, it was over. The flames and the glow of the amulet vanished all together.

_Chapter 5 End_

**Hello, I'm back and I'm happy with the reviews I've gotten so far! "Destruere Malum" translates from Latin into "Destroy the Evil".  
**


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6 _

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.  
**

Dipper had stumbled backwards, onto his bottom, eyes adjusting to the eternal darkness of the forest. He had no idea what had just occurred, but his heart was hammering, and the "Worry Later" closet was creaking open in his mind. Dipper's eyes were fully adjusted by this point, moon providing a weak light for his eyes. The candles were still there. It wasn't his imagination then a-_oh god_. Gideon Gleeful was lying face down in the center of circle of them. Oh god, he was dead. Dipper trembled, beginning to pant from the rising anxiety. No, no, no, he couldn't have a attack, in the middle of the forest, next to the corpse of a child. Oh god, there was a _dead child_ next to him. A child! He whimpered, knowing that since he was so worked up, all by himself in the forest, it would only be a matter of time before the panic attack slammed full force into him. Oh god, a dead body, oh god, oh god, oh god, please help, oh god, a dead body, no, oh god, Grunkle Stan help, oh god, oh god Mabel, oh god Mabel please, _please, please help, oh god, no, Mab-_

Gideon Gleeful released a low moan, shifting a bit. The barreling thoughts abruptly came to halt, as did nearly his breathing, when he realized that Gideon was in fact, alive. Dipper almost laughed. He didn't even care if Gideon was a little creep and had attempted to kill him, he would never want to be around the dead body of the boy. He was just a child in the end! It didn't matter if he was a little creep, he was simply a child. Dipper, with this thought in mind, uncurled himself from his ball, that he hadn't even realized he was in. His whole frame was quivering all too much to stand, so he crawled across the terrain, elbow twinging in protest. He couldn't even register the pain though, adrenaline creating a blockade against the pain. Dipper pushed the candles out of the way and crawled right up to Gideon. He, doing the only thing one could think doing in a situation as the one he was in, poked his pudgy hand. Gideon released a choked cry and curled up onto his side, whimpering pitifully.

It was his fault, wasn't it? Whatever insane curse Gideon was performing, wouldn't have injured him if he hadn't shown up. God, it was completely his fault! His logical side was arguing with his anxiety though. It was Gideon's fault in the first place! If he wasn't out here messing with things he shouldn't be messing with as usual, then this wouldn't have happened. That little creep was at fault. The constant stream of whimpers though, made Dipper feel guilty. He isn't a little creep at the moment, he was simply a child in need. Dipper scooted closer, and released a gasp of pain at a particularly sharp twinge in his elbow. His arm nearly buckled beneath him from it. God, that hurt. _Haha! Pain is hilarious!_ He ignored that memory, focusing on Gideon. Ignoring the repeating memories, entirely cycling through his head. Dipper was aware that the boy was awake, but not all that sure if he was coherent. Dipper cleared his throat before speaking. "...a-are you ok?"

Gideon's face shone with sweat, twisted in agony. Foggy, pain filled, cobalt blue eyes focused on his own chocolate brown ones. "...'i-ipper... 'ines...?"

Dipper gulped. "Uh, yeah. Are you, uh o-ok?"

Tears leaked from his eyes as his left hand covered his right. "...'mm..."

Dipper frowned, gulping thickly at the reply. "C-Can I, uh see?"

Gideon whimpered, shaking his head. "...'urts..."

Dipper crouched lower. "Uh, m-maybe I can help."

The 10-year-old simply stared, while Dipper's frown deepened. He needed to improve the lighting to observe the injured hand. He twisted his body to the side to grasp the candle, intending to discover a way to light it. The brunet heard the crunching of pine needles though and twisted back around to see Gideon scampering away. Oh, no, not again. There was no way he was allowing this happen, again! He groaned aloud, dropping the candle. He sprinted after Gideon, who was obviously too weak to go any faster than Dipper was capable of. When he was right behind Gideon, Dipper tackled him to the ground, who in turn released a cry of agony. Dipper cringed. Maybe that wasn't the best idea he had had. He immediately removed himself from Gideon. He was curling onto himself, much like Dipper had been before. It must of been incredibly painful. "...C-Could I just see?"

Gideon scowled at him, with much less venom than usual, and more with a wild gaze in his eyes. Finally though, he sluggishly presented his hand. Dipper tenderly grasped his fingertips, fearful of causing the boy to release one of those choked cries once more. He only received a moan though, so Dipper was confident he wasn't doing too much damage at the moment. The only problem was that it was excessively dark, causing it to be difficult to determine how injured the hand was. The brunet knew it must of been somewhat damaged though, judging from the reaction and recalling how the amulet had steamed. Speaking of the amulet, Dipper wondered where it went, but again, it was too dark to determine where anything was. Dipper tenderly set Gideon's hand down, ignoring the miserable intake of breath from the boy. He needed light to see properly. "Um, do you have any more matches?"

Gideon possessed a weary appearance now. Dipper swallowed thickly, gazing away. With his uninjured hand, Gideon sloppily tugged a few matches out of one of his front pockets, letting them tumble out across the grass underneath himself. Dipper plucked a match up. When his dad had taken him and Mabel camping up north in California once, he had taught them how to make fires with matches and sticks. Dipper was glad he paid attention to the second, unlike Mabel who was too excited about roasting marshmallows to do so. It turned out that this technique would come in handy. He sat, cross legged on the ground, removing one of his shoes. On the underside of it, he struck a match across, watching as it flashed to life, bringing visibility to the area. With his other hand, Dipper gently took Gideon's hand by his fingers, studying the damage. The flesh of his palm was seared, revealing the second layer of skin, from the heat of the amulet. Slick flesh twinged wi-He gagged, looking away. This was pretty bad. Dipper had no idea how Gideon wasn't screaming for mercy. Dipper nearly had a heart attack when he suddenly heard Gideon's voice. "...'t bad...?"

Dipper attempted to keep the shaking in his voice to a minimum. "Uh, n-no..."

"...oh...'t is..."

Dipper would have been startled for a boy to pick up on his lies, if it wasn't Gideon Gleeful the one to do so. He was more concerned of the appearance of the burn. "I... think y-you need a...doctor. Its, uh b-black..."

"...'leeding...?"

Dipper wasn't capable of observing it once more, fearing he would lose the contents of his stomach. He didn't recall any blood though. "N-No, I don't...think so?"

"...'ot bad 'hen...'eave me 'lone now..."

"Uhhhh, I'm p-pretty sure that's bad still...I'm not gonna leave, even if you are annoying...You need a d-doctor."

Dipper immediately felt guilty about calling him annoying though, when he witnessed Gideon burying his face in the pine needles and dirt, whimpering once more. "N-No 'octors..."

This wasn't normal behavior for a child, Dipper realized at this moment. If he was in the same position he would probably be crying for his mom, hoping for the pain to end. Gideon was acting though like this happened on a regular basis and that it wasn't all that big of a deal. That wasn't how anyone this young should act, and now, more than ever, Dipper knew there was something wrong with this boy. Dipper needed to bring Gideon to a doctor immediately. He grabbed at Gideon's shoulder and tugged him up to a cross legged position. "W-We need to go to the hospital."

The freckled faced boy was cradling his hand to his chest, shaking his head. "N-No 'octors."

"Y-You're hurt though!"

Gideon just shook his head, repeating his statement over and over again. Dipper needed a compromise. They couldn't go to the hospital, but he needed medical attention. He bit his lip in thought, unintentionally mirroring his twin sister. The Shack. Stan kept a first aid kit in the downstairs bathroom, for when the twins injured themselves while playing in the forest. "Ok, ok. No doctors. But, we need to...we need to wrap this, ok? It could get i-infected and that...that would be, um...bad. Come to the M-Mystery Shack with m-me."

Gideon stared intently at the match and it occurred to Dipper that the flames weren't jade as they were before. Nor were Gideon's eyes. He swallowed thickly at the realization, but focused his attention back onto the task at hand. He was confident that Gideon, appearing as weak as he was, would pose no threat if he entered the Shack at the moment. "Do y-you need help getting up?"

Gideon continued to stare intently at it, unresponsive. The boy was becoming creepier as time went on. He stared at the flame, as if it was the most fascinating thing on the planet of earth, instead of it being a simple candle. Dipper didn't like it one bit. He wet his thumb and forefinger and pinched the flame out, engulfing them in darkness. "...Do you need help getting up?"

"...n-no..."

Dipper listened as he heard Gideon unsteadily stand, before scrambling to rise as well. They began their trek back to the Shack, Dipper listening for Gideon's panting, to be sure he was still following him. God, this was a weird situation to be in. For some reason though, it didn't bug him as much as usual. It might have to do with those memories that kept taunting him though. _The point is I like you. _He shivered. When the pair had arrived, Dipper swung back around, observing Gideon standing in the doorway, moonlight streaming in behind him. The brunet whispered to his companion. "We have to be quiet or Grunkle Stan will wake up and find us."

Gideon appeared to be dazed and confused by this point. "...'Tanford...'Ines...?"

"Yeah." Dipper told him, reaching out to grasp at his shoulder, to guide him to the bathroom. Gideon complied. Dipper inaudibly clinked the door shut, as they entered the room, light bulb above them flashing on. The boy appeared worse in light. His hair was even more so messier than before, pine needles stuck in his bob. His clothes were crumpled, smeared with dirt, and dark shadows were bruising underneath his eyes. The brunet was beginning to suspect there was a underlining issue at hand, that wasn't related to the burn occupying his hand. That would be none of his business though. His business was bandaging the hand and nothing more. He guided Gideon to the toilet, setting him down onto the lid. Dipper moved on to opening the cabinet below the sink, pushing rolls of toilet paper out of the way, to search for the first aid kit. He finally located it and opened the ancient box, searching for some type of burn cream and bandages. He nearly had a heart attack when Gideon spoke once more. "...'here my 'mulet?"

Dipper stood, triangle jar of cream in hand. "Uh, I'm not sure...didn't, uh Mabel destroy that though?"

Gideon didn't reply, eyes glazing over once more with apparent pain. He was about to repeat the question, when the door opened, revealing a sleepy Mabel rubbing her left eye. "...Dipper what are yo..." She stared at Gideon, who still appeared to be in a haze. Her mouth opened, scream of surprise escaping beginning to erupt from her lips. "GIDE-"

Dipper was across the room within seconds, hand slapping over her mouth, efficiently ending her cry. When he spoke, his voice came out a whispered hiss. "I can explain, but you need to be quite though!"

Her chocolate brown eyes flickered over to Gideon, before she licked his hand, causing Dipper to violently jerk away. He grimaced as he wiped his spit glazed hand onto his shorts and scowled at his sister. "What the heck, Mabel?!"

She glowered back at her twin brother, using the same whisper-like tone as him, but giving off a blatant undertone of betrayal. "I should be asking you that, bro-bro! Why is Gideon here?!"

Dipper glanced back at Gideon, who was sluggishly blinking as he stared at a framed photograph of the Mystery Shack's grand opening back on the Forth of July in 1982. Shock. The boy must have been going into shock from the severity of the burn. He frowned, returning to the first aid kit for painkillers. Mabel was beginning to realize there was something seriously amiss. She further observed the 10-year-old, taking in the glassy eyed stare and the sheen of sweat present on his face. Mabel's glower visibly lessened at his appearance. There didn't appear to be any medication to lessen Gideon's pain, causing Dipper to feel the well of anxiety swell. When he spoke, there was a blatant tone of concern present. "H-His hand is hurt..."

_~!20-8-5-18-5/9-19/1-14-15-20-8-5-18/4-5-13-15-14!~_

"-And then Jacob rips off his shirt and turns into this hugggggeeeeee werewo-" She spread out her arms in an attempt to show portion of her description. After explaining the concept of digital video disks (which Stanley was able to effortlessly grasp the idea of), Mabel had begun to move into the topic of her favorite movies and what they are about. Right now she was in the middle of explaining the plot of a cringe worthy movie known as "Twilight", which turned out to have three sequels to it. Stanley had been quite patient, but was beginning to become weary of this horrifying love triangle. It must of been a miracle that his brother hadn't locked her in a closet, just like that time little Daniel Corduroy wandered into the Mystery Shack to scream death threats at Stan, and swing about his mini axe. Stanley had nearly had a heart attack when this event had occurred, but Stan simply grasped the axe mid-swing and shoved the 6-year-old into the closet, leaving him locked in until he stopped screaming at Stan. The boy had it in his head that Stanford Pines was his enemy for whatever reason, and always attempted to murder his brother at the the time. He had given his brother quite the lecture afterwards though, but Stan had just waved him off. Stan must have the patience of a saint now, if he could put up with this terrible story. He decided cut off her endearing, yet tiresome ramblings by writing to her.

"This sounds like a great story sweetie, but I need you to do me a favor."

She paused, then dropped her hands to her lap, appearing upset. "And I was getting to the best part! What is it?"

"Where is Stanford?"

"Ummm, I'm not sure."

Stanley had remembered how he caught his brother pouring over one of the journals, mumbling about the workings of the portal. He had feared for quite awhile now, that his twin brother would attempt to do something quite foolish, and needed to get the message through not to do so. Stan apparently hadn't used a UV light or he would of revealed the few warnings Stanley left behind not to do so. "Mabel, its really important that you tell him something from me."

Mabel gulped painfully. "Um, I don't know...Me and Grunkle Stan sorta got in a fight..."

Was that why she appeared upset? "About what?"

Mabel shrugged. She was clamming up, just like someone else he knew when they were upset. "Do you know what? I'll tell you a interesting story if you tell me the story of the fight."

Mabel liked stories, especially from old people. She didn't wanna tell her grandfather this story though. But, an interesting story sounded fun. She bit her lip thoughtfully. "...ok, deal. It better be interesting though!"

"It will, it will. This was over 50 years ago though, keep in mind. We were just freshmen back in New Jersey at the time."

Mabel's eyes widened. Grunkle Stan and Grandpa Stanley were from New Jersey?! That was next to New York! This was already proving to be interesting. He continued on. "Now, every time Stan tells this story, he usually makes himself out to be the savior, but it was actually Carla that was his savior. Now, you must be wondering who Carla is right? Well, I'll get to that soon. When we were kids, our pops made us do boxing, to build not only strength, but character. I honestly was never much for it, but Stan mastered it pretty well once he got the hang of it. Unfortunately, he wasn't all that balanced. Once, when we were in line to see a new horror film, we did love those, his wallet was stolen. He went to 'left punch' the thief, but ended up tripping over his untied shoelaces. The man would of gotten away, if it wasn't for Carla McCorkle. When she witnessed this event, she literally swung around in her spot in line, and socked him straight in the throat. She had hit him so hard, that he had fallen flat onto his back, and she was able to successfully retrieve Stan's wallet."

"Wow..." Mabel breathed. Her Grunkle Stan must of got her! "Did he ask her out?"

Stanley burst out in silent laughter. "Oh heavens, no! She gave him his wallet without a word and went to buy her ticket, before Stan could thank her. My brother immediately fell for her though. We ended up following her to the same movie and we sat directly behind her, just so he watch her during it. He ended up getting her attention by asking her name. She nearly punched him in the face, not expecting him to be suddenly behind her. Carla and Stan introduced themselves and he asked about where she learned how to punch like that. Turns out she was the daughter of our boxing coach and she asked him out to a date by the end of the movie. Thank god she did, or my brother would of continued to dress the way he did. Those high-waist trousers were never flattering on either of us."

Mabel giggled, imagining Stan wearing high-waist elderly man pants and a woman saving his butt. He sounded like he was such a dork! "How come I never heard about her?! She sounds awesome!"

A brief pained look passed his face, before smiling gently. "Oh, they haven't been together for a great many of years."

"Why? She and Grunkle Stan sounded perfect for each other! She could of been my Graunt Carla!"

Stanley appeared weary suddenly. "...Mabel, isn't it your turn to tell about the fight?"

"...but...but...yes..." She made a promise and she always kept her promises, no matter how difficult it was to do so. Mabel gulped thickly, pondering on how to begin. When she finally did, the dam of guilt released its contents. "He called Dipper...a word and I got mad, so I told Dipper what happened, but the girl he likes was there and I accidentally revealed a secret, and I'm mad at Grunkle Stan for saying _that_ word cause it's not true, but he didn't say sorry so Dipper ran away, and he followed him and I now feel bad cause I called Grunkle Stan a bad name but he doesn't know I did, but I'm also still mad at him, and I feel reallllllly bad that I REVEALED DIPPER'S SECRET!"

Mabel was panting by the end of it. Stanley blinked in surprise at her outburst."That was a bit of a mouthful. Do you feel better now?"

She blushed in humiliation at her eruption and nodded. "Good. Now what did Stan say about Dipper?"

Mabel fidgeted again. "...Re...retar...that word."

"Retarded?"

Mabel cringed. He frowned. "Does this have to do with Dipper's secret?"

She nodded hesitantly. "And what does it have to do with his secret?"

She bit her lip. "Ok...so is it necessary for me to know his secret for me to understand?"

She was wary of him still. She had barely know him for two days. Mabel had already grown attached to her grandfather, yet was unsure at the moment how much trust she should put into the man. She couldn't reveal that secret just yet, especially since she had no permission from her twin brother to do so. She shook her head. He seemed to ponder a reply for a moment. "...that term was used during our childhood. You know, if words are introduced to us at a young age, it tends to be in our vocabulary permanently, and if we wish to change it, then it becomes difficult to do so. What I'm trying to say is that he probably didn't mean to say it, it was just a force of habit. And I'm pretty certain he regrets it."

"Oh..." Mabel felt conflicted now. She remembered all the times when her usually affectionate dad would rant on about how much of a felon and bad influence his uncle was the year he lived with the man, due to their grandmother passing away when he merely 17-years-old, leaving to be taken into the care of Stan until he was an adult. The Pines family had never been very large, with only Stanley Pines Jr. having a son. What Mabel wasn't aware of was that Stanley Pines Sr. and his wife, Dorothy Oak had been only children, whose parents had both perished from a influenza outbreak, causing both of their families to nearly cease to exist. They had had a pair of twins though, hoping their families could rebuild. Unfortunately, Stanley and Stanford had lost their father during their teens and their mother in later years. Stanley Jr. would be the only one to continue the Pines line, when he met his wife and having one kid, before vanishing off the face of the earth.

The rest, Mabel did know. When Alex Pines met his wife at the University of California, for the first time in his life he would have a large family, due to Ariel Palms having many people in her family, making reunions insane. And then they had a pair of twins. Her father had always told them his only living relative was a felon and a disgrace to society, so she had naturally assumed it to be true. When her mother told her that she and her brother would go and visit their great-uncle that summer, Mabel had immediately protested. Ariel reminded Mabel of her brother's condition though and had agreed that going to well-known relatives would be difficult, so they set out to Oregon for an unknown one. Though, the whole first week of being at Gravity Falls, Mabel had harbored a suspicion that Stanford Pines was a terrible man, though she didn't act any differently. Her opinion only changed when she realized that her great-uncle was actually pretty fun to be around, and secretly had a soft side. That was when the two truly began to bond. Mabel always kept that suspicion in the back of her head though, because after all, why would her dad lie? She was simply waiting for Stan to screw up, proving her dad right, and had thought that moment had been yesterday. But, her dad had been proven wrong once more.

"...Does my dad hate Grunkle Stan?"

Stanley blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure where that had came from. When he had been trapped here, his son had been a one-year-old, so he hadn't known much about Alex. But, he remembered awhile back when his son was a teen, he had stayed at the Shack for awhile. He recognized the features of the teenager as being a Pines, such as the unruly hair and square glasses, and made the connection that it was Alex. Stanley hadn't know the details though of precisely why he lived there during that certain period, but always wondered why Alex would constantly go about the house with a scowl on his face. He had accounted it to him simply being a emotional teen that simply didn't communicate well with an middle-aged man such as Stan. Mabel asking that though, made him wonder. "I don't know."

Mabel nodded. "...I'm gonna go talk to Grunkle Stan..."

"Mabel?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell Stan to stop?"

"Stop?"

"Just tell him I said that. He'll understand."

"Ok, I'll...I'll try to convince him you said that, Grandpa Stanley."

Stanley smiled at the name. "I hope you two make up. I know how stubborn he is, but I'm sure he won't be able to resist your pretty smile."

Mabel's pretty smile appeared at that. "Thanks!"

_~!-?-!~_

It was late when she returned to her room though, so she made the decision to confront Stan tomorrow. She glanced over to the bed opposite of her's. Dipper wasn't there, even though it was around 11:00 PM. The Shack was silent, dark as the forest outside, but her brother was missing. Mabel bit her lip, briefly wondering if she should search for him, but dismissed the thought, believing it would be best to leave him be for the moment. Her brother usually wandered about their house back in Piedmont or the Shack if he wasn't in the mood to sleep or be around her at night, which actually happened quite frequently before they had arrived at Gravity Falls. It hadn't always been that way though. Before _that_ incident, Dipper had confined with her about everything. After though, he became a bit closed-off, never quite possessing the same trust he had once had in her. That was all Mabel's fault though and she knew it. So, she would respect her brother's wishes to be alone, at least for the moment.

She snuggled up into her pillow, burying her face into to it, preparing to let sleep overcome her. Sleep eluded Mabel though. God, it was hot in here. The stupid swamp cooler must of been malfunctioning, again. No wonder Dipper decided to leave the room, she was drenched in sweat! Mabel kicked off her covers, hoping to reduce the smothering feeling. It didn't, much to her dismay. She had no idea how she would be able to sleep no-Mabel did fall asleep though, half way through her thought. Mabel was quite possibly the only one that could sleep in any position, at any time. Her slumber would not last though, as she would be jolted awoken when she heard the creak of the back screen door downstairs. Mabel disoriently read the time on the clock of her nightstand, revealing it to be 1:01 AM. She would of dismissed the noise for Grunkle Stan, if it wasn't for the the dulled speakings of her brother. Dipper deluded himself into believing he was capable of being quiet, but unfortunately was not. The mutterings under his breath were not so much mutterings, as they were harsh hissings. It sounded as if he was speaking to another though, much to her puzzlement. Time to investigate.

Mabel stumbled down the staircase, and into the darkened hallway, rubbing her eyes. Her bleary gaze observed the soft light spilling from the crack of the bathroom door. Dipper never used that bathroom. What was he doing? As she approached, she was able to finally make out what was being spoken. "-idn't, uh Mabel destroy that though?"

The brunette pressed the door inwards, stepping in as she rubbed her left eye. "...Dipper what are yo..." She froze in mid-rub, taking in the scene before her. Dipper was knelt down, triangle jar of cream in his hands. And sitting on the toilet before him was Gideon Gleeful? _GIDEON GLEEFUL?_ Her mouth opened, scream of surprise escaping beginning to erupt from her lips. "GIDE-"

Much to her surprise, Dipper was across the room within seconds, hand slapping over her mouth, efficiently ending her cry. When he spoke, his voice came out a whispered hiss, near her ear. "I can explain, but you need to be quiet though!"

Dipper _did_ have quite a lot of explaining to do. She needed to get his hand off though so she could investigate further. She licked his hand, causing Dipper to violently jerk away. He made a disturbed face. Dipper wiped his spit coated hand onto his shorts and glared at his sister. "What the heck, Mabel?!"

She glowered back at her twin brother, using the same whisper-like tone as him, but giving off a undertone of betrayal. "I should be asking you that, bro-bro! Why is Gideon here?!"

Dipper glanced back at Gideon, who was sluggishly blinking as he stared at a framed photograph of the Mystery Shack's grand opening back on the Forth of July in 1982. He frowned, returning to a first aid kit on the sink's counter, rummaging through for an unknown object. Mabel was being to realize there was something seriously amiss. She further observed the 10-year-old, taking in the glassy eyed stare and the sheen of sweat present on his face. Mabel's glower visibly lessened at his appearance. Mabel wasn't completely aware of what was occurring in that moment, but knew that the child needed assistance in someway. He may of been a little creep, but Mabel couldn't help but remember the boy she had thought of as her friend, for however brief it was of a time. Dipper appeared disappointed for a moment, then became distinctly distressed. When he spoke, there was a blatant tone of concern present. "H-His hand is hurt..."

"Hurt? What do you mean hurt?" Concern oozed from her tone.

"It's, um b-burned."

Mabel stepped forward, intending to see the damage, but was blocked by her twin brother. "M-Mabel, it's-you-please, y-you don't wa-"

"Dipper, please, I wanna help," She appeared determined, that much was indisputable. Finally, Dipper sighed and stepped aside. Mabel attentively approached Gideon, unaware of how he would react to her appearance. She diffidently didn't want the boy to go all gaga over her arrival and pester her for a date once more. Mabel doubted this would occur though, as he was in a considerable amount of pain. He didn't acknowledge her presence, so she squatted down, observing the hand limply lying in his lap. Mabel gasped aloud, placing a hand over her mouth in astonishment. "Oh my god, Dipper, this is bad!"

Dipper fidgeted in the medicine cabinet, searching for any medication to relieve Gideon's pain. He was coming up empty though. There wasn't medication for anything, which perplexed him. Grunkle Stan was 67-years-old; he had to have oral medicine for something lying around the house by this point in his life. He couldn't focus on the mystery of that though, as he had more bothersome matters on his hands to attend to. "I-I know. And, he won't go to a d-doctor."

"Why?!"

"I-I don't know! He won't tell me!"

Mabel gripped the boy's uninjured hand, rubbing circles on the back of it with her thumb. "Gideon? Gideon, it's me, Mabel. Gideon? Are you ok?"

His focus on the photograph ceased and he sluggishly stared at her. "...'Abel...?"

"Yeah. Are you ok?"

Gideon's head dropped in reply. She frowned and felt his forehead, gasping. "Dipper, he feels really hot."

Dipper paled. "His b-burn is probably i-infected!"

"...Dipper, we need to wake up Grunkle Stan."

"A-Are you crazy, Mabel?" He spluttered. "I-If he sees Gideon Gleeful in his house, he's going to-going to-just lose it!"

Mabel frowned. "Gideon has a bad burn and is running a fever. We need Stan to drive us to the hospital! And he isn't gonna lose it, he's gonna help him, because he's only ten!"

Dipper bit his lip in thought. That was true. "O...Ok."

"Go wake him up then!"

"M-Me?" Dipper squeaked.

"Dipper, it's ok. He won't get mad at you."

Dipper fretfully wrung his wrists. "But-"

"No, listen bro-bro. You trust Grunkle Stan, right?"

"Um, I wouldn't let him handle my money, so not reall-"

"No, I mean like to help you. I wouldn't let him handle my money either."

"Of course." Dipper told her with no hesitation.

"Then, he'll help us."

Dipper hesitantly nodded. "O-Ok...I'm going to d-do it."

When he arrived to his Grunkle Stan's door, he creaked it open peeking inside. The distant tunes of old time jazz echoed pleasantly to his ears. Dipper frowned. Stan typically listened to classic rock, like Creedence Clearwater Revival and The Eagles. The twins were aware that he owned records from the 20's and 30's, since they belonged to his parents, but never listened to them. Dipper clicked the light on, revealing the room to be empty, causing Dipper to furrow his brows in confusion. It was 1:00 AM, the vinyl record player was on, and no one was occupying the room at the moment. He approached the record player, observing the spin of it, as it played an eerie strain that produced goosebumps across Dipper's skin. He reached out, removing the arm from the record, ending the music. He twisted the dial to "**OFF**" and observed its slowing down. The worn out record was labeled, "**Columbia**" in large print, underneath was copyright details and speeds of the disk itself. Beneath that read, "**UPTOWN BLUES (_Lunceford_) JIMMIE LUNCEFORD &amp; HIS ORCH.**". Definitely not classic rock. Dipper picked up the sleeve for it and slipped the record inside, before placing it back into the box of other vinyl record set beside the player.

Dipper didn't have any idea where his Grunkle Stan could be at the time and he knew this was an urgent situation. He began to pace the length of the room, wringing his wrists in his anxiety. What were they going to do? Gideon's fever was only going to rise and they needed a doctor now. The lights in the room flickered at this moment and he frowned. Stan needed to update the electricity in this place; it was always doing that. And the swamp cooler needed to be replaced and the garbage disposal was still broken. His great-uncle just needed a whole renovation to this building. Dipper's anxiety was calming and being replaced with annoyance at these thoughts. Why did Stan have to live in the past? Old things needed to be replaced if they no longer worked!

The lights flickered once more and then abruptly, he was engulfed in darkness. Dipper gasped aloud the moment it happened, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This just hadn't been his week has it? There was a glow from behind. Dipper tensed, breaking out in the cold sweat as the light began to grow brighter as it approached. The distant cords of "Uptown Blues" played once more and from the approaching glow, he noticed the record was back on the player once more. Oh, god. This was not a good situation he was in. The glow ceased movement and he knew in that moment. He knew whatever produced that light was directly behind him. They say courage is readiness to face fear and to take action despite it. In that moment, Dipper did just that. He turned around.

_Chapter 6_

**Had to cut it off right there, or this chapter would of gone on for ages. I am so, so, sooooo sorry though that I didn't update earlier! I've been busy with school work lately and I just got a bit overwhelmed. I had to write during my spare time just to get this chapter out. I made this chapter extra long though to make up for it, so please do enjoy this. Anddddd, did any of you see the new Gravity Falls episode? The ending made me scream! March 9th is soooo far away!  
**


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper's face was inches from it when his breathing ceased. The uncanny, illuminating hue burned his retinas from the intensity, yet he could not look away. In the back of his mind, a itch began to take form. It seemed to draw him to it, seemingly full of promises of power and protection. He knew deep down though, that these were lies. He could sense the terrible danger it possessed. Dipper hadn't felt any more tense in his life. He barely registered the change in the background music, too entranced in the potential and his fear. It wasn't until he heard the mummer of a familiar name, that he tuned in to the music, but still dared not move a muscle. The record player was no longer playing the echoic "Uptown Blues". It was now soothingly whispering, static cracking louder than the words. He could hear them though, there was no doubt. Just like when he would hear those voices when he was young, pressuring him. Dipper knew that these whispers came from it. They came from Gideon Gleeful's amulet. "_Gideon_..._where_..._run_..._of_..._to_?"

Dipper immediately couldn't take the intensity of the voice. His trembling hands covered his ears in a quick motion, elbow releasing a sharp pain that was ignored. His heart was thumping in anticipation of the amulet's reaction. No voices, no voices. He didn't hear anything. No. He didn't. Was the amulet as disturbing as it was before? He never recalled feeling such a fear from the jewel itself, but he may of been too distracted by Gideon to notice in the first place. Now that he was alone with it though, he couldn't do anything except to cower before it. Mabel. He nearly gasped at the thought that his twin sister had used its power that night about a month ago. Had she felt this? It was suddenly centimeters from his face. He whimpered as his eyes watered. It was watching him, Dipper simply knew.

The voice increased in volume and covering his ears did nothing to block it out. "_Giddy_..._the_ _Pines_..._can't_..._protect_..." The motherly voice cooed. The voice took on a dark note though, voice full of lust and longing. "..._so_..._wrong_..._Gideon_..._I'll_... _find_..._You're MINE_."

Dipper finally squeezed his eyes shut, knees giving out below him. The glow was piercing his lids though. No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, _NOOO_. _NOOOOOOOOO_. He couldn't take it anymore. He had been trapped in this room for years and years. So many years. Dipper knew it would never end though, he would forever be tormented by the amulet. By the-but, the glow vanished and he could breath again. The brunet tenderly opened his eyes, heart still thumping in anticipation. Nothing was there much to his relief. He stood on shaky legs and observed the record player. It no longer was on, but the vinyl was still there. It had happened. He didn't imagine it. Dipper shuddered, mind not registering that the shape of the vinyl was now a triangle, instead of a typical circle. This situation seemed to becoming worse and worse. He needed Grunkle Stan. But, the need to find his great-uncle was replaced with fear as he heard the vocalization of a girl screaming in horror. Without a second thought, he bolted out of the room. "Mabel!"

The door to the bathroom was closed, but he knew it wouldn't matter to the amulet. He swung open the door and froze at the sight. Gideon was still on the toilet seat, but his eyes were filled with fright as he stared, tight lipped, at the amulet. Dipper paid him no heed though, focusing on his sister curled up in the corner of the bathroom, screaming at the amulet floating inches from her. Her screams seemed to be off in the distance though, feminine whispers of desire overtaking all else. "..._pretty_..._might_..._be_..._better_..._than_..._Giddy_..._decisions_..._decisions_..._so_..._pretty_..."

Dipper's unease of the amulet was no longer present as he surged forward to protect his twin. "Mabel!"

There was a pulse in the air, that thrust him backwards though and an ungodly shriek filled the air. "_MINE_..._GO AWAY_...!"

Dipper staggered back from the very force of it. Mabel screeched louder and began to push herself against the wall, attempting to distance herself. "Don't touch me! Stop touching me there!"

He was completely at a lost for a moment. Touch her where? It was a jewel and it wasn't even making contact with her. Her shrieks continued though and Dipper could do nothing to make them cease. His body was paralyzed and a strange lull of exhaustion was overtaking him. Dipper's eyes sluggishly shut for a moment, before jerking back open at the next screech. "STOP TOUCHING MY MIND!"

It was at that moment, that there was a clap of thunder and a bright golden illumination permeated the room. Dipper could do nothing to shield his eyes from the potency of light. When the luminance cleared, floating in between the amulet and Mabel, was Bill Cipher the dream demon. Dipper quivered at the very sight before him. The situation was becoming more and more bleak as time went on. To Dipper's bewilderment though, the dream demon didn't appear to be full of the typical mischief and trickery that Dipper had grown accustomed to. In fact, he seemed pissed off. His color was taking on the beginnings of a crimson shade and his tone was that deepened one he took on, when he would state something distressing. "_WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THE PINES_?_"_

The panic in Dipper ebbed away and he simply gaped in shock. The amulet replied in a giggle though. The tone was full of earnest, unperturbed by the dream demon's own fury. "..._oh, Bill_..._been_..._long_..._time_..._Pines_..._not_..._your's_..._MINE_..."

Bill's shade of crimson began to deepen and Dipper whimpered aloud. The demon's single eye shifted over to the preteen and the shade of crimson receded. He appeared to study the individuals in the room, eye narrowing. "_Pine Tree, you and Shooting Star shouldn't be involved with this_."

Dipper couldn't even respond. His mind kept flashing back to the last time they had met. The amulet sounded as pissed as the dream demon now and the amulet was suddenly mere centimeters from Mabel's face. "_MINE_!"

Dipper's heart stopped. Oh god, it was going to kill Mabel, and there was not a single thing he could do. It didn't though. Bill's mouth had expanded to ridiculous portions, being as wide as the mirror set in the bathroom. Mouth? Since when did the triangular demon have a mouth? He had barely a moment to ponder this, as Bill released a massive blast of air from his mouth. Mabel, Gideon, and Dipper were swept away from the force of it. It seemed to carry them as if they were leaves in the breeze, a golden luminance engulfing them. The breeze seemed to lead the trio to the staircase down the hall. Further shocking Dipper, was when a secret door opened on the side of the staircase, much like when the Shack's secret room was unveiled, revealing a small gap below, full of several boxes. The three of them were flung inside and the door swung shut, entrapping them in darkness. It was quiet for a minute or two before Dipper reached out, touching a body. "M-Mabel...?"

Then, the sobbing began. His twin sister cried in the darkness and suddenly Dipper couldn't help it; he cried as well. The last few hours had been completely overwhelming. The two of them sat in the darkness, clinging to each other as they released their fear. At some point though the weeping ceased and exhaustion befell them. Dipper wasn't all that sure of exactly how long he and Mabel had slept, but he was soon woken by the sound of another individual weeping. It was at that time, he recalled Gideon was here as well and was likely as upset as they were. And, Dipper found himself wanting to be become more involved with the younger boy and comfort him. He wasn't sure if it was pity or some other emotion he felt towards Gideon at the moment, but he knew Mabel would feel the same if she was awake. The brunet untangled himself from his twin's arms and released a harsh gasp when his elbow shocked him from the intensity of pain. It had been doing that since earlier in the night and he was beginning to suspect he would have to go to the hospital for yet another injury. He had larger concerns at hand though.

He went to stand, but smacked his head on what appeared to be the ceiling. He hissed in pain and rubbed his forehead. Crawling it was. As he crawled, he elbow began to pulse painfully and he winced each time he moved his arm. So distracted by the pain he was, that Dipper collided straight into another body, that released a yelp of alarm. Whoops. "S-Sorry, its uh, m-me, Dipper."

"...'ines?"

"Yeah. Are...are you o-ok? You don't sound too g-good..."

"...Dark...'here?"

"Uh, under the, uh staircase? I-I didn't even know there was a room here..."

"...'mulet?"

Dipper winced. He didn't even want to think about that. "Uh...I-I don't know?"

"...'eed...it..."

The brunet still wasn't sure why Gideon was so attached to _that_. "Well, we're uh, stuck, so I-I don't think that will happen anytime soon."

"...'eed it!" Gideon's tone became distressed and was now digging his nails into Dipper's arm, near his injured elbow.

Tears sprung once more to the 13-year-old's eyes and he began to pant from the pressure being placed on it. "G-Gideon! P-Please!"

"...'ine! 'eed it!"

"I-I-I-I d-don't hav-"

"You don't need it!" Mabel shouted at Gideon. Dipper jolted as felt his twin thrust herself at the boy, causing Gideon to release his hand from Dipper's arm. Her voice became a soothing whisper. "...You don't need her."

"...'eed!"

"I'll protect you, ok? You don't need her."

Dipper was completely out of the loop about what was occurring. "M-Mabel? What's...what's goin-?"

Gideon interrupted though, appearing desperate. "...'lease! 'eed _her_!"

"No, you don't need her; she just wants to use you. I won't let her have you though, ok?"

Gideon had broken into sobs by this point, repeating his distressed statements, yet Mabel began reassuring him each time. Dipper felt a pang in his heart, reminiscing on a times his sister did the same when he was in the midst of his panic attacks. He reached out and grasped Mabel's shoulder as Gideon's statements morphed into blubbers. "M-Mabel?"

"Shhhh, its ok...she's...she's been using him."

"Wait, 'she'?"

"You know, The lady that was...the one that was...trying t-to get m-me...too..."

"...Mabel, uh, I didn't see a-anyone."

He felt her shoulder tense and she giggled nervously. "...Right...of course no o-one was there..."

Dipper swallowed thickly. He wanted to believe Mabel, he truly did, but he was reminiscing on when they were younger and she would point at thin air, asking him if he saw that. He would tell her nothing was there though. When she would do it to their parents, they would chuckle and tell her what an imagination she had when it was something silly sounding. There were those times though, that she would point at the air and describe something especially disturbing to them. Their parents would freeze and gape at her, before telling her not say such things. And, Mabel eventually did stop saying such things. He shouldn't believe her claim. Yet, Dipper thought about those whispers he heard when he was young and the relief of being able to ignore them. Then, overtime, he was able to slowly block them out. Lately though, the whisperings wouldn't leave. The murmurs of a low timbre around the house, the womanly hissings from the amulet, and the echos of what Bill used to say rang out through his mind. And, with this thought in mind, Dipper released a secret even bigger than his Generalized Anxiety Disorder. "I-I heard a woman talking when the amulet was around."

_~!19-9-12-5-14-3-5/9-19/12-15-21-4!~_

Mabel woke to the cry of her brother. "G-Gideon! P-Please!"

She frowned. Where they fighting? She went to stand, but the top of her head brushed the ceiling, before getting to her full height. Mabel realized crawling was her only option and began to do so. "...Mine! 'eed it!"

The amulet. She remembered the night she had used the amulet. There had been a feeling of calmness that had overtaken her when she had used the power, yet she didn't even fluster when Gideon and Dipper had fallen off that cliff. For a split second though, she didn't want to stop using it, but the feeling had passed once she destroyed it. Or so she thought she had destroyed it at the time. The brunette understood perfectly what Gideon felt when he held it. She knew though that it was a danger and he had no need for it. "I-I-I-I d-don't hav-"

"You don't need it!" She cried as she threw herself at where she heard the boy's voice. Mabel slammed directly into him. A stack of boxes toppled over, producing a thud. Mabel wrapped her arms around his thick body and soothingly whispered. "You don't need it."

Gideon was attempting to push her away, but she held tighter in a hope to comfort him. "...'eed!"

She needed to reassure him. "I'll protect you, ok? You don't need her."

There was confusion evident in her brother's voice when he spoke. "M-Mabel? What's...what's goin-?"

"...'lease! 'eed her!" Gideon was fighting against her, but she could feel his resolve weakening. He knew. He knew deep down that he didn't need her, Mabel realized. It was as if he was being forced to crave her protection.

"No, you don't need her; she just wants to use you. I won't let her have you though, ok?"

Gideon began to cease his struggle against her and had broken into defeated sobs, repeating the claims of much he needed the protection of the amulet. Mabel reassured him each time though, that he didn't need it and she would protect him instead. As Gideon began to blubber, she felt the weight of her brother's hand on her shoulder. "M-Mabel?"

Gideon was burying his face against her, blubbering increasing. She could feel the feverish skin through her nightgown. "Shhhh, its ok...she's...she's been using him."

"Wait, 'she'?"

"You know, The lady that was...the one that was...trying t-to get m-me...too..." Mabel trailed off. She could feel the desire when they had been in that bathroom, and witnessed the shadow of the hourglass shaped woman reaching out to her. The frigid hand had possessively stroked her mind, sending shivers down the brunette's spine. Half of her clung to the comfort, while the other half rejected it wholeheartedly.

"...Mabel, uh, I didn't see a-anyone."

Mabel tensed. Oh, god, he hadn't seen her. There was a lady that Dipper hadn't seen, just as when they were young. He would never believe her. She released a nervous giggle."...Right...of course no o-one was there..."

For a moment, there was silence, only filled with the quieting sobs of Gideon. Then, Dipper revealed a shocking claim. "I heard a woman talking when the amulet was around."

Mabel was completely thrown. Dipper continued on, tone hesitant. "I...I hear...h-hear things s-some...sometimes..."

"...like...like when I see things?" Mabel questioned in return. The brunette had ceased her efforts to make society witness the sinister shadows, realizing she was the only one capable of being able to. Her parents had insisted she curb her "inappropriate imagination" as her Dad had dubbed it, at quite a young age. It was one of the few times she had genuinely witnessed him upset and felt disappointment well up in herself for causing her parents to worry. So, bye-bye shadows. Or at least speaking of them. It had never occurred to her though, that her brother may of been in a similar situation.

"I...uh, I...y-yes."

Gideon had halted his sobbing by this point and was strangely quiet. She took no notice though, as she was distracted by Dipper's surprising revelation. Mabel was honestly overwhelmed at the moment and wished someone could help unwhelm everything. Her Grandpa Stanley could. There were no mirrors anywhere and though Dipper seemed to slightly believe Mabel about the shadows now, he likely wouldn't believe their missing grandfather was trapped in an alternate universe, only seen through reflective surfaces. And, if her own brother didn't believe this, then Grunkle Stan surely wouldn't either. Mabel winced. Why does she always make promises she can't keep? Grandpa Stanley was going to be disappointed in her now. She sighed aloud, as she thought on Dipper's reply. When had they become so distant that he had never bothered to tell her such a thing? "...why...why didn't you tell me?"

"I...I was a-afraid M-Mom and D-Dad wouldn't b-believe...j-just like...y-you..."

Mabel squeezed her eyes shut. No one ever believed her. About anything. Not even when she told her parents Dipper was beginning to act sort of distant over a year ago. Her Mom had simply smiled and told her not to worry, as he was acting perfectly normal. He hadn't though, he had seemed to retreat into himself, and was speaking less to the family as a whole. Yet, Mabel never pushed him for an answer as to why he was acting that way. Mabel should have though. If she did, she would have never came home that day from art club to discover her brother's bro-_STOP_. No, now was not the time to linger on that. She needed to focus on other topics. Such as why Gideon was so silent and not being wracked with sobs anymore. She frowned. "Gideon?"

There was no reply and she nudged him. His brother sounded concerned at the abrupt change in the topic. "M-Mabel? What's wrong?"

"Gideon? Are you ok?" She felt his forehead when there still no reply. His fever had dramatically risen, faster than a fever should have. Oh no. "Dipper! I think he passed out!"

"W-What?"

Mabel was beginning to become anxious. "His fever is really high!"

She felt Dipper brush up against her and pat around to locate the 10-year-old's forehead. She snatched his hand and guided it to Gideon's forehead. Dipper gasped in surprise. "Mabel, t-this is b-bad!"

"I know! Is the door locked?"

"...uh, I d-didn't check." Dipper pulled away and she heard some shuffling. "Oh no."

She didn't like the sound of that. "What?"

"The h-handle. It's missing!"

"W-What do you mean it's missing?"

"There's j-just a hole w-where the handle is s-supposed to b-be!"

They were stuck? THEY WERE STUCK. Mabel took a deep breath to steady her nerves though. She needed to keep calm for her brother. She could hear his harsh gasps and the anxiety riddled tone, suggesting he was on the verge of a panic attack. Mabel needed to stay calm for his sake. They couldn't be simply stuck. Bill Cipher had somehow managed to open a once sealed door underneath the staircase, so there had to be a way to leave. Speaking of that, just why did the dream demon put three of them in here? Mabel didn't understand the motivation behind the action, when he had made it clear that he wasn't a good guy. She wanted to ask Dipper about his thoughts on the topic, but she had been hesitant to bring up the subject of Bill Cipher ever since the sock opera ordeal. Ever since that night, neither of them had mentioned it. Mabel was consumed with guilt for not noticing the change in his behavior, but each time she tried to prob the subject, Dipper would smoothly transition the conversation to a different topic. She needed to force him to speak with her about it, or she feared this would end up as last time. Now wasn't the time though. Gideon passing out from his fever made her concerned about how high his temperature was beginning to be. "Bro-bro, could you feel around for a mirror?"

"A m-mirror?! M-Mabel, w-we don't have t-time for t-this! W-We need t-t-t-t-t-"

"Dipper! Breath!" Dipper ceased his stuttering and took a few breaths. Then some more. And then he wouldn't stop taking deep breaths. "Dipper!"

The breathing immediately halted. "...S-Sorry, I j-jus-"

"No, it's ok. You don't need to explain. Can you just look though?"

"O-Ok..."

Mabel heard more shuffling, then a muffled thud from a box falling. There was a clatter a moment after, that echoed throughout the confined space. For the next few minutes there was more scuffling and the clinking of various trinkets as Dipper scoured the closet for a type of mirror. Then, Dipper gasped in surprise. "I think...I think I found a compact case."

"That works," Mabel felt a round object pressed up against her thigh and she took it from the extended hand. She opened it, revealing one side to be smooth, as if it were reflective surface. She hoped Dipper trusted her enough to not believe she had completely lost her mind. Talking to mirror wasn't exactly a norm. The trio needed an escape though and she believed their Grandpa Stanley could assist them in a way. "S-Stanley? Are you awake?"

"Mabel?"

Mabel ignored Dipper. Grandpa Stanley may of been unable to hear her. The way it seemed to operate, is that he had to be near a reflective surface in his Shack to hear or even witness her. She bit her lip at the thought. "Stanley, can you hear me?"

"W-Who are you t-talking t-to?" Dipper appeared to be anxious about her behavior.

Mabel further chewed on her lip and shifted Gideon, so that his head rested on her left thigh. The compact case mirror appeared to light up, as if a lamp flickered on, and the face of her Grandpa Stanley appeared, seeming concerned. She knew he wouldn't be able to write more than two or three words, causing this to be a one sided discussion. "M-Me and my brother need help. We're sorta 're stuck in the closet."

Stanley pointed upwards on his end. The source of light appeared to be located above. "Dipper, there's a light above us!"

There was a smack and a moan of pain. She winced. "Are you ok, bro-bro?"

"...yeah..." The light flickered on and it was revealed that Dipper was crouched before her, hand grasping the metal chain, connected to a exposed light bulb. A pale pallor befell his face though, chocolate eyes deliriously swiveling about in every direction, as his mouth slowly gaped open. Mabel frowned, observing the room, seeing only the contents of the room spilled across the floor from when Dipper had emptied each box earlier, in search for a mirror. What was wrong then? She received no answer though, as Dipper fell backwards and scrambled back against the door, pressing himself up against it, much like she had earlier when the shadow had cornered her in the bathroom. Mabel opened to mouth to question his behavior, when he began to scream uncontrollably.

_End Chapter 7_

**Thank you all so much for the support you have all given me so far and for putting up with the long periods that are in between each chapter. I've really appreciate it so far! Now that I'm officially on Spring Break though, the time in between each chapter will shorten a lot. Hope you enjoy this one for the time being. :)**


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper blindly grasped the metal chain, dangling from the ceiling, and tugged on it. There was a distinct click and the closet was enveloped with light. Right away, Dipper knew this was a mistake. There were triangles. Everywhere. His mouth slowly gaped open and all the blood left his face. The mess bestrewn across the floor, dizzily swam before his face. His eyes shifted to his sister and Gideon. They were triangles. Triangles with familiar colors, distorted into one another, overwhelming his senses. THEY WERE TRIANGLES. Dipper staggered backwards, into the door, and fell over. He released a violent scream of horror as the triangles began to squirm. They twitched and trembled as if a mass of bees, sluggishly approaching him. What was that on the walls? WHAT WAS ON THE WALLS? RED. IT WAS SPLATTERED ACROSS THE WALLS. SO MUCH RED. BLOOD. OH GOD, IT WAS BLOOD. He was choking on his breath. Curling into a ball, he made an attempt to remove himself from the situation, but was inadequate to understand that he was in a locked room, unable to remove himself from it. Everything was moving, closer and closer, and he felt such a claustrophobia conquer his senses, that all he was able to do was scream. Dipper clenched fistfuls of his unruly hair and shook his head. NO. NO. NO. NO. He was producing harsh gasps between each cry. Go away. GO AWAY. But, it wouldn't go away and one of them was touching him. STOP TOUCHING. He violently slapped it away and he heard a crisp smack in reply. A voice cried out and he squeezed his eyes firmly shut, before blinking them open.

There were no triangles. No triangles? The bestrewn mess was there once more and Mabel was before him. Tears trickled down her round face, covering her cheek in surprise at his actions. He had hit her. Dipper nearly passed out. "O-Oh, god, M-Mabel, I-I-I-"

Mabel ignored his stuttering, and immediately plucked up the compact case, that had flew from her hands, with a frantic look. "Stanley? Grandpa Stanley?! Are you still there?!"

There was a jagged crack across the mirror from when it made contact with the floor. It appeared that, whoever Mabel had apparently been speaking to, was no longer there. Her sentence caught up to his mind. Grandpa? Wait, what? "W-Who-Wha-Grandp-pa?"

His sister released of sigh of defeat and dropped the compact case back onto the ground. She appeared to be forlorn for a moment, then, she began to dig through the mess around her. Dipper studied the objects in a daze. At least half was clothing, appearing to be a mix of classes, woman and men apparel from anywhere between the 1920's to the 1940's. The rest were antique breakables, he thankfully hadn't broken earlier, and kitchen supplies. Dipper had pulled the compact case from an what appeared to be a tattered makeup bag. He recalled his great-uncle was born sometime in the 40's, so he supposed this all belonged to Dipper's and Mabel's great-grandparents. He marveled at thought for a moment. They were surrounded by their family's history. What exactly did their family consist of though? "M-Mabel...Dad s-said his dad l-left when he was a b-baby..."

Mabel ceased her efforts and gazed over her shoulder with a solemn expression. "I don't know if you'll believe me."

Dipper bit his lip. He wanted to believe Mabel. "Try me."

"Well...uh, Grandpa Stanley, is uh, is almost in another universe?"

Dipper stared at her blankly. "...What?"

Mabel hung her head, returning to her efforts once more. "See, you don't believe me..."

Dipper was the type of person that needed evidence for a claim, especially such a far-fetched one as this. He thought about Gravity Falls though and how much evidence the third journal gave. It honestly wasn't as much as he wished it could have, but he had believed in the writings so far. And so far, his trust had been put to good use. If he could believe the writings of the author, he had to be able to believe his sister. Dipper yelped when that identifiable timbre murmured into his ear. "...telephone..."

Mabel swung around at the yelp. "Dipper?"

"S-Sorry, just, uh..." Dipper stared into chocolate eyes. Trust. He needed to trust his sister. That wasn't as easy as it used to be though. Once upon a time, he would of not hesitated to leave his heart open to his twin, yet he lost the ability to do so over a year ago. Mabel changed though. As soon as he was admitted to Benioff Children's Hospital of Oakland in the psychiatric ward, she began to regularly appear for visits and devote all of her free time to him. Mabel was there more often than their own parents had shown, often immersed in work. Weekends was typical for them. His twin though, would take the the hour ride on the bus everyday after school, and visit him for an hour or two. Dipper had been astonished by her actions and though he would never admit it to anyone, he often cried when she left. And, slowly they had begun to rekindle their close bond. He still remembered what she did though and a part of him would always. He could forgive, yet never forget. Dipper had already revealed his deepest, darkest secret though. He could do it again. "I...I heard a v-voice..."

Mabel's eyes widened and she crawled over to him. "Was it...was it h-her?"

Dipper shook his head. "It was...a m-man..."

Mabel frowned, tilting her head. "What did he say?"

"...'telephone'..."

Mabel seemed to ponder this. "Why would he...?" She froze. "Have you heard this voice before?"

"Uh, y-yeah...he said 'sick' back when...when G-Grunkle Stan caught that bug t-two weeks ago..."

Mabel beamed. "Dipper! Do you know what this means?!"

"Uhhh?"

She began to open the rest of the boxes and investigate. "A-ha!" The brunette hauled out an antique rotary phone, reminding Dipper of the 1940's. "Plug-in, plug-in...Found you!"

She crawled to the other side of the closet and plugged it in. Then, she proceeded to call the Mystery Shack's home number. Dipper was beginning to suspect he would never understand what was occurring tonight. For a moment, he could hear ringing from outside the closet, from the living room's phone, but it was abruptly silenced. After a moment, Mabel shoved the phone into his hands. "If someone picks up, its probably Grandpa Stanley!"

"Wait, what?!"

"Mabel?" The identifiable timbre questioned.

Dipper frowned. No. That couldn't be the mutter he heard. "Uh, no, t-this is her brother."

"Oh, you must be Dipper! So, you can hear me. I thought you did that one day in the hall. I apologize for that by the way. Simply talking aloud to myself."

"W-What? Wait, w-who is t-this?"

"Oh, did she not fully explain? Well, this is awkward...uhh, I suppose I'm your grandfather? It's a bit odd to be honest."

Dipper gaped. "G-Grandfather?...uh, l-look, my grandfather p-p-probably died a long t-time ago, so, uhhh..."

"Ah, I see. You need evidence. I'm like that as, too. Well, lets see what I could possibly tell you to make you believe...? Oh. Well, your great-uncle started boxing when he was eight. And, he started it since our father thought it would build character."

Dipper paled. Only Stan, Soos, and he would know that. And, the handy man would never willingly reveal such a fact to anyone. Dipper only knew, since he heard the memory of Stanford Pines divulge all of that to Soos. "W-Wait...but...I...S-Stanley Pines?"

"Yes."

"B-But, you soun-"

"Young? Yes, well, where I am, time doesn't seem to exist here."

"Where a-are you?"

"I'm stuck between two planes of existence. I am in the Mystery Shack, but in one that is stuck between two different worlds."

"A-Alternative universes?"

"Yes, it seems you grasp this concept better than your sister."

"Why can't Mabel hear you...but s-see you?"

"Yeah, how come Grandpa Stanley?!" Mabel shouted into Dipper's ear.

Dipper cringed and shoved her away. He heard chuckling from his grandfather. "I suppose that was her?"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm sorry I can't give you two a better answer."

"He doesn't know, Mabel." Mabel nodded dejectedly, then began to crawl over to Gideon, whose head was laid upon a dark coat.

"You two said you were stuck?"

Dipper blinked. He had nearly forgotten everything that had happened. The discovery of their grandfather, that their Dad had claimed left the family when he was an infant, had distracted him from the confides of the closet. Now, he wished he hadn't remembered. His anxiety was returning full force. "Uh, y-yeah... We s-sorta need help...p-please..."

"Ok, where I am, the door can be opened from the outside. Not the inside. I learned that from personal experience back when I was in that world. My brother didn't find me until eight hours later when he returned from work."

Dipper swallowed thickly. "E-Eight hours?"

"It won't take that long, no need to panic, Dipper."

He nearly began to laugh at how ironic the statement was. "H-How are we going t-to get out?"

"Well, you need something resembling a screwdriver or a pencil."

"Uh, Mabel do you see anything like a, uh a stick?"

Mabel glanced up from Gideon. "Dipper, Gideon's burn is...really gross..."

Dipper turned around and watched Mabel cradling Gideon's hand with a appearance of consternation. He barely glanced at the oozing hand for a moment, before gagging a bit with his eyes shut. The deep timbre voiced his concern. "Dipper?"

"Uh, h-hold o-on..."

Dipper set the phone back onto the floor and began to peruse through other unopened boxes. He stumbled across a tattered work briefcase and fumbled to open it. Frayed paperwork was dispersed along the inside of it and a fountain pen. Oh, thank god. The trio needed to leave as soon as possible; Gideon was becoming worse. Dipper would of been pondering on how Gideon's wound had been infected so quickly, if his anxiety hadn't overcome him at that moment. He crawled back to the phone and plucked it up. "Ok, I found a pen."

"Ok, now go to the hole where the handle would be."

Dipper and the phone moved to the door. "Here."

"So, do you see the square metal hole where the handle should be?"

"Yeah."

"That's known as the spindle hole. The spindle is a stick that connects both of the door knobs. Turning that, causes a door to open. Are you following me?"

Dipper made a noise, to affirm that he did. "Put the pen into that hole. There should be a knob next to your pen. If you push the pen to the left, the knob on the side of the hole will move, opening the door."

The brunet pushed the pen to that direction and there was a barely audible click. Then, the door creaked open. Dipper gaped for a moment, before exclaiming in a hushed voice. "Woah!"

"Dipper! Can you help me carry Gideon out?" Mabel inquired from behind him.

Dipper had nearly forgotten. "Uh, s-sorry someone with us is really, uh, sick, so I need to go."

"I understand. Your friend looked pretty sickly from when I saw him in the background of the mirror. You should hurry."

"Ok, uh, bye," Dipper hastily placed the phone back and began to crawl over to Mabel. He lifted up Gideon's feet, ignoring the twinge in his elbow, while Mabel lifted him, by placing her hands underneath his armpits. The pair of them had to remain on their knees or be at risk of hitting their heads. They shuffled on their knees, heading towards the door. When they were out of the entryway, Mabel began to stand, Dipper following her lead. He halted his efforts immediately though, panting. _Haha! Pain is hilarious!_ "S-Stop!"

Mabel immediately went into a crouch. "Dipper?"

His elbow was immense pain by this point and he was beginning to see spots in his vision. His arm was violently trembling. "S-Slowly p-put him d-down."

Mabel slowly settled the 10-year-old down, right as Dipper did. He released his hold on Gideon's shoes and immediately curled his arm against his chest, painfully squeezing his eyes shut. "Oh, my god! Dipper, what happened?!"

He opened his eyes to witness Mabel covering her mouth. He glanced down at his arm and saw heavy bruising surrounding his elbow. Well, that explained why it hurt so bad. "I-I fell..."

"Do...do y-you need a hospital?"

"N-No, it's just bruised...do you hear...any-anything...?"

"What?"

"Well, I-I don't hear _him_ anymore..."

"Grandpa Stanley?"

"N-No, uh B-" Dipper couldn't speak. Why couldn't he? Bill Cipher. Just say it. All he needed to do was say the name. Say it. Just sa-

"Kids? What are you two doing messing around with that closet?"

Dipper swung around to see Grunkle Stan standing at the entry way of the living room. "Uhhhhh..."

Dipper had no idea what to say in order to explain everything that happened the past few hours, without mentioning Bill Cipher. Ever since the first meeting of the dream demon, Soos, Dipper, and Mabel had agreed to not mention him to Stan. They weren't sure he would react kindly to the idea of a demon stalking them. Mabel always knew what to say though. "Grunkle Stan, we need to go to the hospital."

"Hospital? Did one of you two get hurt, again?"

Dipper and Mabel swung back around to Gideon. Expect, he wasn't there. Only the front door, standing wide open. Dipper knew right away that they wouldn't find him for the rest of the night. Mabel didn't know that though. "Gid-"

Dipper stepped on her foot and she stumbled away with a cry. Dipper lifted his injured elbow. "I fell and hit it really hard."

Stan frowned and stepped forward, tenderly taking hold of the extended arm. "Kid, how do you end up hurting yourself like this all the time?"

Dipper gulped guilty. He never meant to. It just always seemed to happen. "Uh, I..."

Stan sighed. "Ok, we're going. Mabel, stay here."

Mabel gaped at him. "Bu-But!"

"No, stay here. You should be in bed anyways. I'm gonna get the car keys, then we're going, Dipper." Stan concluded, before leaving the room. Dipper hadn't noticed until now, but Stan had his fez and slippers on. As if he had never gone to sleep. What had he been doing all night? And, was it him to turn the power back on?

Dipper turned to his sister. "I saw him in the woods a few days ago and he just disappeared. I don't know how Gideon does it, but we won't find him."

"B-But, he was so sick and..."

"I...I know," Dipper gulped. He felt anxious about where the boy could of possibly disappeared off to. The longer he had been with the defenseless boy, the less hate he had felt about their past encounters. The brunet truly wanted to locate him to help, but knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew what happened precisely occurred when someone's fever escalated too high and that caused him to be afraid for the 10-year-old. There was nothing either of them could do at the moment though. "He'll...he'll probably be ok though. He was in jail, so I think he can survive a fever..."

Mabel nodded hesitantly. "Are you ok though?"

"Yeah, it's just some bruises. I'l-"

"I didn't mean that, Dipper."

The triangle episode he had. He recalled the slap and guilt welled up in his heart. "...I-Is your cheek o-ok?"

"It's fine. What happened though?"

It occurred to Dipper that he now possessed a new deep dark secret; the triangles. He would keep this secret to grave though. Then again, that was precisely what he told himself when it came to the whispers. He decided to stick to the truth. "I'm just tired..."

_~!10-9-12-12/18-5-8-16-9-3!~_

"Dick?" Stan questioned the doctor. The doctor, a man this time, was prodding the bruises. Dipper hissed in discomfort, as his eyes welled with tears. The doctor frowned. Dipper was exhausted after the events that took place that night and desired for the pain to leave. On a curious note though, he wasn't aware Stan would know a doctor here. He squinted through the tears to read his name tag, revealing it to be 'Thompson'. Thompson. Oh. He recalled that Thompson was one of the teenagers in Wendy's group, that was always picked on and chosen to do the task no one else wished to do. Judging from the man's age, Dipper assumed the man to be around he late 30's or early 40's, likely causing him to be Thompson's father.

"I suspect there may be a break or a fracture somewhere on the elbow."

Stan frowned. "It bad?"

"No, I've seen worse, Stanley."

Dipper tensed at the name. Stanley? Wasn't Grunkle Stan's full name Stanford? His great-uncle's eyes flickered over to his face, before returning to the doctor's. "Ok."

The doctor revealed a smile. "Dipper? We just needed to take an x-ray of your arm. Have you ever had an x-ray before?"

Dipper nodded. "So, you've had some experience it would seem?"

The brunet nodded, once more. Dr. Thompson opened the door to the examination room and brought him out into the hallway. He caught Stan narrowing his eyes at Dipper, causing the brunet to squirm a bit. The doctor led him down to the room where the x-ray was. "Um, D-Doctor Thompson?"

They continued to walk. "Yes?"

"I always forget, but isn't Stan's name actually Stanford?"

The man frowned. "No, it's actually Stanley."

"Oh..."

If Stan knew Doctor Thompson, why would he lie about his name? Unless..."Then, is Stanford his brother?"

The doctor opened the door to the x-ray room. He appeared confused. "Brother? Your grandfather doesn't have any siblings."

Grandfather. No siblings. As the information set in, Dipper stared at the man. He thought Stan's name was Stanley. If Grunkle Stan was his grandfather, than who was the man on the phone who claimed he was stuck between two worlds? A chill trembled down his spine. Wha- "Now, you need to change into this gown before we can x-ray you."

Dipper bobbed his head up and down, in a daze. Dr. Thompson turned, to give him privacy, adjusting the x-ray machine. Dipper removed his pajamas, leaving him only in his underwear. Then, he put his arms through the gown sleeves and tied the string in the back. The man moved over to a rack of aprons and didn't turn back to Dipper, until he was wearing the lead shielding apron, to protect against the rays of the machines. Dipper hardly noticed as the doctor guided him to the table, too deep in his thoughts of what the possibility of the names.

_~!-?-!~_

"There's a hairline fracture on the olecranon. That's right here." The doctor explained to Stan, pointing his pen at the tip of the elbow. Stan was glad the kid was still the x-ray room. He was sure he would have a anxiety attack over a crack on his elbow. It was barely noticeable though, simply a squiggle on the photographs. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Jesus, he was exhausted. Upon discovering his brother's journals being missing, he had frantically searched every nook and cranny in the lab. Right as he finished searching each hiding place, he realized that they weren't anywhere down in the lab. Right at the moment of that thought, the lights flickered, and died. He had rolled his eyes. Stupid power outage. Then, his eyes widened in horror as he realized all of the power went out, including the portal. Stan had kept it continuously running, fearing it wouldn't start again if he had shut it off.

He had stumbled and tripped over to where he knew the controls were and began to type in the code to start the portal. The first time around, he never bothered to know the code, but memorized it this time, in fear of not being able to operate for decades, like before. When that didn't work, he picked up his lantern and lit it. He rushed upstairs, into the shop, internally panicking. Stan toyed with the control panel outside for the next 15 minutes, until he was able to get the power started. He hadn't exactly understood why the power went out in the first place, but figured the portal had overpowered the house. Stan had nearly returned to the lab, when he thought he heard a distant conversation. Finding his great-niece and great-nephew messing around with the hidden closet he had painted to match the rest of the wood, had surprised him. Then, he recalled how easy they had discovered Stanley's room and realized how not surprised he was. Discovering Dipper hurting himself once more though, was still upsetting, no matter how times it happened. Thankfully, this injury wasn't as bad as the time with the stitches. That would be difficult to explain to Ariel when the kids returned home. The doctor continued on. "Since it's a very minor fracture, he'll need to wear a brace for at least a three to four weeks ."

Oh, Dipper was not going to like this. "A month?"

"Yes, around that time, or it may end up as a full break and then he'll have to wear a cast for a much longer amount of time."

Stan nodded. Dr. Thompson observed him, knowing full well that Stan didn't visit a doctor on a regular basis. "What about you, Stanley? Anything noteworthy?"

"No, I don't have any aches or pains or weird growths. I'm as fit as a horse."

"What's wrong with your hand then?"

"Cut it when I was restocking my store." Stan smoothly lied.

"Can I see?"

Stan rolled his eyes and handed it over, knowing full well the man would harass him for it until he would show him. Dr. Thompson unbandaged his thick hand and studied it. He nodded in approval, before reaching into a draw for more bandages. He re-wrapped it, as speaking. "It's healing fine."

"Great. Now, I'm pretty sure my grandson is dead on his feet. Can we get the brace now?"

"Of course."

The two of them entered the x-ray room, revealed Dipper in his pajamas once more and settled on the table. He rubbed his eyes as the doctor approached and began to position the brace on Dipper's arm. "You have a slight fracture in your elbow. This brace will keep it your arm in place, so that it heals properly. Only take it off when showering, alright?"

Dipper nodded, appearing in a daze. "It's to stay on for at least a three weeks."

Stan was astounded when Dipper bobbed his head up and down at the instructions. He must of been more exhausted then Stan first believed to not complain about the amount of time it would take to heal. More astounding, was that preteen and didn't utter a word on the way back to the Mystery Shack, silence only filled with the vocals of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire" and the occasional rumbling of thunder. A storm was brewing. Right as Stan parked though, Dipper spoke. "Why does Dr. Thompson think you're my grandfather?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Stan smoothly lied.

"...He called you Stanley though."

"You must of heard wrong then." Stan evenly replied, sweat building up on his face

"He said your name is Stanley and that Stanley never had any siblings."

Shit. Then, he saw movement from the corner of his eyes. "I think you and your sister should go off to bed."

Dipper glanced over to the porch, and witnessed a concerned appearing Mabel peering through the triangle shaped window on the door. Triangle? It was supposed to be a diamond shape. He was barely fazed by the fact and turned his gaze back to his great-uncle. "Is your name really Stanford?"

Stan released a weary sigh and spoke in a defeated voice. "Yes, I'm Stanford Pines. A lot of folks in this town think my full name is Stanley though."

"...Why?" God, this kid was just full of questions he didn't wish to answer.

"Kid, sometimes folks want to see the best in others."

Dipper frowned. "What?"

"Look, I'm just gonna frank now; I don't want to talk about it, ok?"

Dipper stared blankly into the drizzle of rain. "Ok, Grunkle Stan."

_End Chapter 8_

**Would you look at that; I didn't stop on a cliffhanger this time, unlike Not What He Seems. (_Spoilers ahead_) Holy guacamole though! Stanley Pines is canon now! Great job fandom! If only we didn't have wait until the summer for the next episode though. The wait is going to be brutal! The olecranon is a part of the elbow. It's the hard pointy bit.  
**


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

"Mabel, how do you even know if that voice really is our grandfather?" Dipper whispered in the early morning hours to his sister.

"Well, I know cause I've seen him! He looks just like Grunkle Stan, just a lot younger and more attractive!" Mabel whispered back.

Dipper made a face. "Attractive?"

Mabel rolled her eyes at his tone. "I don't mean that in a gross way. It's like if I say Mom is beautiful, which she totally is."

Dipper couldn't argue the fact that their mother just absolutely gorgeous. Wait, this wasn't what they were speaking about. "But, Mabel, that doesn't mean anything. He could be just a fake or like a monster pretending to be him."

"He's not a monster, Dipping Sauce. How would he know about Grunkle Stan's first girlfriend? Her name wa-"

"Carla McCorkle...Stan's told me about her before and how he saved her."

Mabel frowned. "He didn't save her! She saved him."

"What? Mabel, he told me the story and everything."

"And since when do you believe everything he says?"

Dipper recalled how the end of the story became all "hallucination-y" as Stan had stated. "Wait, so Carla saved him?"

"Yeah! He almost got his wallet stolen and she punched the thief in the throat! Then, they fell in love with each other..." Mabel dreamily concluded.

"So, you think only Stan and his brother would know that?"

"Yes! Plus, he knew when Grunkle Stan started boxing. There's no way anyone would know that unless they were there around that time."

Dipper couldn't argue that either now that there was evidence. "Ok, but why is he stuck between two universes then?"

Mabel frowned. "He never told me why...he doesn't seem freaked out about being there though. I wonder how long he's been there...?"

This was beginning to sound quite suspicious. "...Mabel, don't you think it's weird that only I can hear him and only you can see him?"

Mabel fidgeted. "I...I see things all the time though and you...you used to hear things..."

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance and the thick drumming of rain on the attic's roof. When the lightning flashed, for a second, Dipper could of sworn there was a triangle floating in the middle of their room. He pulled his covers over his head, gulping thickly. "Bro-bro?"

"W-What?"

"You ok?"

"Y-Yeah...just the thunder..."

Mabel didn't reply to that. "Dipper...Are you ok?"

Dipper frowned from underneath the covers. "Uh, yeah. Didn't you just ask tha-"

"No, I didn't mean that...I mean... well you've been acting sorta...jumpy lately?"

"...I'm fine. Just...I miss Dad."

That wasn't a lie. He hadn't spoken to his Dad all summer. Every time he called, it was their Mom that picked up. She typically informed him that Dad would be around next time, but the man always appeared to be sleeping, or working, or even taking a shower. Dipper suspected it was his own fault though. He should of never yelled at his Dad like that when he came to visit his room, a week before being released from the psychiatric ward. And thanks to him, Mabel never got to speak with their Dad either. He must of been pissed at the both of them. "Oh...did he still not call back?"

"No, it's always Mom calling or picking up."

"Well, he'll have to talk to us when we come back, right?"

Dipper peeked out the covers, beginning to feel smothered underneath. "...Yeah, probably."

"...Wanna go get breakfast?"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Mabel, it's 4AM."

"Well, I can't sleep! I kept on...I kept on thinking about Gideon and Bill-" Dipper cringed at the name. "-and_ h-her_..."

A thought occurred to him. Her tone of voice. It was...Oh. She was afraid. She was afraid of _her_. Oh. It all made sense now. Bill. He was afraid of Bill Cipher. Dipper felt a giggle bubble out from his lips, but immediately stifled it with a feeling of alarm. Where in the world did that come from? "D-Dipper?"

Dipper peered over to where her bed was, unable to view her face in the darkness. Oh, no. Dipper gulped. "Sorry...I'm...I'm t-tired."

"...You c-can't sleep either?"

"Yeah."

"...why do you think s-she wants Gideon?"

Dipper frowned. "...she kept saying you were...you were 'p-pretty'...so...I think maybe...she thinks he's p-pretty?"

They both cringed at that thought. It sounded eldritch when Dipper put it like that. Mabel continued on, sounding concerned. "I think we should go find him."

"Mabel, he left three hours ago. And just because I can't sleep, doesn't mean I'm not tired."

"Gideon is wandering out in the forest with an infected burn and a super high fever and you only care about lying in bed!" She furiously shouted, sitting up in bed.

Dipper felt his cheeks flush in shame and eyes well up a bit. He didn't mean to sound so selfish. "I-I-I didn't m-mean it t-that w-way, j-just that he won't l-let us find him so e-easily or...or..."

Or, she wasn't letting him be found. A chill rolled down his spine, shame evaporating. "We n-need to s-summon..._him_."

Mabel's fury calmed somewhat, though her tone still felt annoyed. "Summon Gideon?"

"N-No..._h-him_."

She seemed to catch on. "Bill? Why?"

Dipper cringed. "He...he m-might... know how to find him."

His twin's eyes widened. "But, Dipper, you're sc-"

The brunet was beginning to feel a connection to the 10-year-old. He couldn't let fear become an excuse. "Now, lets do i-it now."

Mabel appeared surprised at the confidence voiced. "Dipper we don't have the journal to summon him though."

Dipper had forgotten. "Journal 2 has it written in there, but it went missing after Gideon used it that last time...maybe mine has..."

He removed himself from his bed, and felt around on the desk near him, mindful of not hitting his arm brace on it. Having located a flashlight, he flicked it on and studied the ground. There. Mabel appeared next to him, getting down on her hand and knees, tugging on a certain floorboard. It popped out of place and she settled it onto the floor next to the hole. Dipper passed the light to his twin, then reached inside and pulled out the journal, but frowned when he felt a slip of paper come with it. "What the-?"

"It's a letter!" Mabel shouted in excitement, while plucking up the envelope with the name "**Pines**" written across the back in type of italic cursive.

Dipper felt his blood run cold. "Mabel, only you and me know where I keep the book."

Mabel's excitement morphed into nervousness. "Who...who do you think...?

"I d-don't know..."

Mabel began to fragilely open it and pulled out a folded up letter. The flashlight was returned to Dipper and was aimed at the paper as she unfolded it. The brunette gulped as she began to read it aloud. "'_You and Mabel should treat this spell with care. There is a lot of potential one spell can simply have. Whenever that potential is great or dangerous depends on how it is spoken or the intentions. To summon Bill Cipher you must use the Latin phrase: **Triangulum, entangulum. Vene foris dominus** **mentium.****Vene foris videntis omnium.** Variations of this spell may do various things to him and one version you might need of this is to remove all vowels of this spell. This is to protect ONLY if he chooses to become violent. I trust the two of you will not misuse this power. One more thing: It would be in your best interest to locate the others in Gravity Falls that now own the other two journals_'."

Mabel and Dipper gave each a look. "H-How did this person know we needed this spell when we just...just d-decided this right now?"

"Uh, maybe it's a future us?"

"Mabel, this is serious!"

"I know, bro-bro, I'm just throwing out ideas!"

Dipper snatched the letter from her and she retrieved the light from him, shining the it over the writing. "And who has the other journals?! I thought they went missing!"

"Well, maybe it was whoever left this paper here that gave them to the others?"

"But, who is this?"

Mabel didn't have an answer for that one, but thought maybe a certain someone had witnessed the person coming in here. "Maybe Grandpa Stanley saw? He's been watching the Shack for awhile now."

Dipper didn't like the sound of that. He did believe the man was his grandfather, but thought the whole situation appeared fishy. What if he was stuck for a reason? "Watching?"

"He says not all the time, but when he wants to see what's going on. He might of seen."

"And from what mirror? The only reflective thing here is the window and it faces outside!"

"I don't know! I was just trying to be helpful! You don't have talk to me like I'm stupid!"

Dipper was about to retort, but was halted when he saw the look on her face. She was right; he been snappy with her ever since they were locked up in the closet. "I...I'm s-sorry..."

"...no...it's ok...sorry for saying things that aren't helpful."

Dipper reached out and touched her shoulder in a comforting way. "Mabel, everything you say is helpful to me."

Mabel smiled, appearing touched. "Thanks, Dip."

_~!14-15-20/1-12-12/5-22-9-12/9-19/19-21-16-5-18-14-1-20-21-18-1-12!~_

Gideon Charles Gleeful was laid out on his bed, staring off into space. He wasn't all sure of how he got back to his house or even into his bed for that matter, last thing remembered was him being in the woods, attempting to cast that spell. The spell to...to do what again? And why was he still in his daytime clothes? He recalled fragments though. Dipper Pines appearing in the forest, following him into the Mystery Shack, seeing Mabel Pines, maybe Bill Cipher showing up? It became completely hazy after that. He remembered during that haze though that he felt warmth and comfort. It was different than _her's_ though. He heard He had felt a hand tenderly stroking his head and the voice of concerned tones of a young boy. They seemed to soothe and comfort him. _She_ on the other hand, seeming to squeeze him possessively, whispering sweet-nothings into his ears. He gasped, feeling a burning sensation in his hand. He glanced down, opening his clenched fist, taking in the bluish hue settled into his hand. The amulet had returned, healing his burn, and easing his raging fever. Physically, he felt fine, mentally he was immensely satisfied, yet spiritually, his soul was screeching and retching at the power. It burned inside terribly, causing him to clench his torn pants at the pain.

He didn't even know the time, but it was dark, and he felt his mental state slowly rejecting the forced relaxation placed instead him. Gideon wanted the comfort and warmth back. He wanted that hand stroking him and that voice soothing him from his fears. He began to weep, feeling worse by the minute. An sinister voice breathed throughout his mind, as a old timely tune began to play. "_Gideon_..._Giddy_..._relax_..._just relax_..."

His pupils flashed a glowing bluish hue and he gasped in pain. "S-Stop!"

"_Giddy_..._won't hurt_..._if_..._relax_..."

He couldn't relax. He needed to fight this. If he did, he could feel the comfort once more. Comfort and warmth an- "_REMEMBER_..._DEAL_."

His eyes widened. The deal. His deal with _her_. He had to keep it or...There was a slow pounding at his room's door. He shot up and stiffened at the noise. "Gideon...what you up so early in the morning for?"

Gideon felt wary of the slurred timbre, sensing what was to occur. A image of his father flashed through his mind, him bellowing into his face. The 10-year-old trembled at the vision, the door creeping open. Gideon wailed a plead aloud. "I REMEMBER! THE DEAL, I REMEMBER! I WON'T FIGHT YOU ANYMORE! PLEASE!"

"..._sorry_..._sweetie_..._need to remember_..._your place_..."

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper quivered before her, lighting the final candle with the lighter. It had been borrowed from Stan's "secret stash" of cigarettes in the kitchen, that he assumed the twins were unaware both had caught him, typically towards the evening, digging around in that drawer, for a smoke on the back porch. Mabel had snuck downstairs though, to retrieve the lighter they needed to begin summoning the dream demon. She was concerned about her brother's behavior though, knowing how bad his anxiety was flaring. His breathing was steady, for now, but she knew once Bill Cipher appeared, his condition would take a turn for a worse. She stepped inside the circle, crouching down to grasp his quivering hand. She could tell how afraid he was. "You don't have to summon him, if you can't."

His chocolate eyes stared into her own. "I-I have to n-now...s-something d-doesn't f-feel right."

Mabel swallowed at that sentence. She could feel the power of _her_ lingering in the air, seemingly sighing out _her_ desire. And she had a feeling Gideon, where ever he was, was in peril. For Dipper to feel that as well, made her apprehensive. It was as if...as if the three of them had a sort of...connection in way? Mabel wasn't completely sure how to describe it. She recollected when she first observed Gideon in that tent, that a tremble rolled through her...soul? Was it her soul though? She had immediately been distracted by the performance, immediately forgetting the sensation, but had felt the same when she witnessed him at the pool and next when he appeared at the Shack to steal the deed. Each time they had met, she had momentarily felt that spark. Feeling as though the 10-year-old was in peril set her on edge. If it came down to it though, she would always pick Dipper feeling safe, rather than doing something he wouldn't actually want to. "If you are too scared, I won't be upset if you don't do something."

"I...feel like I-I need t-to."

The brunette stared at him. "Dipper, when you last saw Gideon, did you...did you feel...a weird sorta...um...tingle inside?"

Dipper stared at her. "Tingle...?"

"Like, uh..."

Dipper gave her a blank look. "I...I don't know what you're talking about?"

"It's just..." Mabel trailed off with a distance look, a thought occurring. "Dipper, didn't you say you forced yourself not to hear those voices?"

Her twin fidgeted, clearly not comfortable on the topic. "Uh, y-yeah."

"Do you think...maybe you forced yourself not to...feel other things?"

"Mabel, what the heck are you talking about?"

"Never mind...if you really wanted to summon B-him, then I won't stop you."

Dipper nodded, then standing on trembling legs, breathing turning harsh. Mabel wasn't sure if he was capable of much at the moment. "Do you want me to read it?"

"Uh, L-Latin isn't easy to r-read."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Come on, Dipping Sauce, it can't be that hard!"

She, of course, stumbled ungracefully over the dead language. Dipper simply reached out his hand, silently asking for the letter. Mabel handed it over without a word. "T-Triangulum, entangulum. Ve...Vene foris d-dominus mentium.V-Vene foris v-videntis om...omnium!"

The intense flash of light was familiar to Mabel, reminding her of the first time she witnessed Bill beginning summoned. And, sure enough, the room's saturation wasted away, and Bill Cipher appeared before them. A mouth appeared on his face and he released a yawn, hand covering his it. His eye roved over the darkened room, settling on the twins. "_A bit early to be doing summonings, isn't it?_"

Dipper stumbled back, directly into Mabel. The demon seemed to leer at him, moving closer. "_Don't tell me you're finally scared of me now, Pine Tree._"

Mabel detested the way her brother cowered before Bill Cipher and she stepped in-between them. "Leave him alone."

The demon narrowed his eye. "_Since when did you give commands, Shooting Star?_"

She puffed her chest up, hoping to appear somewhat intimating. "Since I decided to not let you bully my brother anymore."

The triangle stared at her for a moment, before bursting out in laughter. _"You crack me up, you know that? Ok, ok, I won't pick on him...for now. What can I do for you two?"_

"...m-maybe a-an explanation..." Dipper muttered from behind her.

Bill picked up on the words. "_About what? The meaning of life? How babies are made? Why I call you Pine Tree?_"

Dipper set his gaze to the floor, cringing at his voice. Mabel intervened though. "How about what happened this morning?"

The demon seemed to ponder the question. "_Not sure how much I should reveal to you two. Maybe if you made a deal..._"

"We don't want to make a deal about that."

"_But, you two do want to make a deal._" Bill stated, clearly seeing their intentions.

Mabel peeked over her shoulder to her brother, who nodded. "We want you to destroy Gideon Gleeful's amulet."

Bill replied in the blink of an eye. "_Sorry, no can do. The kid is in a binding contract._"

The twins gave each other looks of confusion. Mabel wasn't aware he was in a one that didn't involve Bill. "Contract?"

"_Yep. A deal. He's bond to it and no other demons can interfere with that._"

"T-There's other d-demons?" Dipper asked, clearly skeptical of such a claim.

"_Of course! What do you think was with Gideon this morning?_"

Mabel's eyes widened. "_S-She...she's_ a demon!"

Bill transformed into a slot machine and the handle on the side of his body was pulled downwards. The pictures rapidly spun, before halting on check marks. "_We have ourselves a winner!_"

Mabel trembled and covered her mouth. The dream demon observed them both and seemed become serious. "_...Never show her fear or worse, acceptance;_ _she feeds off of that._"

Dipper gulped. "...l-like...y-you?"

"_...Pine Tree, I'm nothing like her._"

Mabel felt a flare inside. "You're a liar! You lie to people about being able to help them, then you stab them in the back! You and her are both terrible monsters!"

Bill's golden glow, began to turn a shade of maroon and he floated inches before her face. "_Shooting Star, I have never lied. I have truthfully told my clients my terms, and how they interpret my intentions are their decisions, not mine. And, there are much, much worse things I could do than lie. Much worse things I am capable of, yet I don't do them, unlike she would._"

Mabel stumbled back into Dipper, and watching the maroon recede from him. She didn't expect for him to blow up like that, causing her to be uncertain to ask what she wanted to. The brunette couldn't stop herself from doing so though. "...what t-things?"

His eye seemed to glow the same color as his golden body as he whispered his next statement. "_Purposeful murder of the body, mind, and soul._"

Before she could reply, the triangle floated over to her brother. "_Kid, I know you don't trust me, but if we don't do something about your state of mind, you're going to completely lose yourself,_" Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. "_Those triangles you keep seeing? That was a side effect of me inhabiting your body and mind. If it_ _was_ _your soul, the damage would be irreparable, but since I only invaded your body and mind I can help you fix this issue_."

Mabel once more stepped in between the two. "What if we see your 'intentions' the wrong way?"

He rolled his single eye. "_Then, I'll clearly explain them. My intention is to stop my presence inside of him from breaking him, in a nonthreatening or backstabbing way._"

She turned to Dipper, needing to know if the claim was true. Mabel grasped his quivering hands and he opened his eyes. "Are you really seeing things?"

"W-When we...were in t-the c-closet..."

"Do you want to...stop it?"

He immediately nodded and seemed to muster the courage to making eye contact with the demon he so feared. "Why...w-why did y-you t-take m-my body?"

"_You needed my presence to let yourself 'hear' again._"

His eyes widened. "How d-did y-you..." He shook his head. "A-Are you l-lying?"

The triangle floated beside him, wrapped his arm around Dipper's shoulders, causing the preteen to tense. Mabel didn't appreciate Bill causally touching her brother like that, but decided against interfering. "_I'll let you in on a secret; I can't lie_."

Dipper looked at him. "W-Wait, what?"

"_Not going into details on that, but I need to know if we have a deal?_"

Dipper looked into his sister's chocolate eyes and after a moment she hesitantly nodded. If she wanted to make up for not helping her brother a year ago, then she needed Bill Cipher to heal is mind, if only it was a bit. "W-What do you w-want?"

"_Trust your great-uncle if it involves family matters._"

"Wha-"

A severed hand appeared out of thin air and covered Dipper's mouth. "_No spoilers, kid._"

Dipper stiffened and Bill removed the severed hand from the preteen's face. Bill's hand flames ignited and he presented his hand to Dipper. He eyed it uncertainly, before accepting it. "_Before we begin though, I believe your sister has a deal as well._"

The dream demon turned to her. She wasn't all that surprised by the fact that he could sense that she had a desire to create a deal. It was as if he could predict the future sometimes, yet that didn't quite frighten her. "Could you tell me _how_ I could destroy Gideon's amulet?"

A light of mischief appeared in his eye. "_There you go kid; I may not be able to directly involve myself, but someone else could. In exchange though, you just need to get your Gramps out of the 'rabbit hole'._"

Her mouth fell open. "Ho-"

"_I just know. Now, to be clear on this matter, I will tell you how to permanently destroy the amulet, which will break the deal between Gideon and her._"

She could do this. She could eradicate the amulet along with somehow rescuing her grandfather from where he was. She had never asked, but could feel how lonely he was in that Mystery Shack and had a feeling he had been there for a extended amount of time. Mabel confidently nodded and reached out her hand to the other flaming one. They shook and she felt a tremble run throughout her body, much like a burn from a hot surface, without the pain. "_Alright, you need to set up a circle of candles like this, say her name, then repeat the phrase '__destruere malum' 13 times, while holding the amulet in the palm of your hand._"

Mabel blinked. "Well, that sounds easy."

"_Shooting Star, you should know anything involving a demon is never easy._"

She didn't like how ominous that sounded. A thought occurred to the brunette. "Wait, what is her name?"

"_That wasn't part of the deal. I tell you how to destroy it and in exchange you free your Gramps._"

She cringed. That was her fault. "Ok, can you tell me what it is?"

"_Gideon will know_."

Mabel wanted to question further, but he was already moving on to her brother. Thankfully, Dipper had seemed to relax as the encounter with Bill Cipher went along. He no longer trembled, though his voice continued to tremble as he spoke. "_Kid, you ready? Should let you know though, that this will hurt._"

He swallowed thickly at that. The demon's eye became a wall clock. "_Tick-tock, Pine Tree. We need to do this sooner, rather than later._"

Dipper nodded, squeezing his eyes shut once more. The demon's hand gripped the side of his face and his eye began to glow a black color. When Dipper's eyes did the same, he released the beginnings of a scream. It was smothered as Bill covered his mouth. Mabel's face paled at this action. Oh, god, he was going to kill him. She attempted to shove him away and pry at the hands to recuse her twin. "S-Stop! You're hurting him!"

Bill gave no indication he heard her and she was unable to wrench his hands off. The veins throughout Dipper's body became black, seeming to pulse and throb. She cried in horror at this. The demon's voice echoed threateningly throughout the room, muttering an unidentifiable Latin incantation. What appeared to be black blood, oozed from Dipper's eyes, nose, and ears. The blood seeped into Bill, as if he was absorbing it, before finally letting her twin's limp body drop to the floor. Dipper's veins and eyes returned to normal. As Bill Cipher disappeared in a flash of light and the room restored it's saturation, he began to gasp for air. Mabel fell to her knees, before her brother, cradling his head in her lap. "Dipper! Dipper, are you ok?!"

He placed a hand over his heart, clenching the fabric of his nightshirt. "I-I CAN FEEL!"

"I-I thought he was going to hurt you!" Mabel replied, tears welling in her eyes.

He reached out and clenched hold of the front of her nightgown, head lifting from her lap. He didn't seem to register what she had replied with. "I FEEL G-GIDEON!"

Mabel was becoming confused and anxious at his behavior. "W-Wha-"

"DON'T YOU FEEL IT?! DON'T YOU FEEL HIS PAIN?!"

She didn't like her brother's behavior. Bill Cipher broke him! She began to cry and attempt to pull away from her raving brother. He continued to cling to her nightgown and began to shake her. "MABEL! DON'T YOU FEEL IT?!"

"S-STOP, D-DIPPER!" She wailed at him.

"HE'S IN DANGER! WE HAVE TO HELP!"

Their bedroom door was flung open, after this scream, and their great-uncle rushed in. "What the hell is going on?!"

"GRUNKLE STAN! WE HAVE TO HELP!" Dipper released her and stood, stumbling over to him. Stan rushed forward as the preteen collapsed into the elder man's thick arms. Mabel witnessed all of this through a filter, the vision of a figure menacingly looming over her. Oh, god. She understood, she completely understood her brother's panic now. Gideon. They needed to save him or else...or else...

"Kid, what's wrong?!" Mabel appeared by Stan, collapsing onto her knees and grasping one of her great-uncle's shoulders.

"Grunkle Stan, we need to go to Gideon's house."

"Gleeful? Mabel, there's something wrong with your brother an-"

"He's warning us. Dipper, I feel it. I feel he's in danger, too." She informed her brother, who appeared too exhausted to speak any longer.

"Warning? About the Gleeful's being in danger?" Stan questioned, appeared confused by these claims.

"No, Gideon...we need to...we need to go, now!"

"Mabel, that little punk i-"

"Please, Grunkle Stan, you need to forget about Gideon being your 'enemy' and believe me when I say he needs help." Mabel whispered, hoping someone would finally listen to her, for once in her life.

He gazed in her chocolate eyes, before softly speaking. "...Ok, I believe you kid."

Her great-uncle scooped up her now unconscious twin and settled him into his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied him, before turning to Mabel. "Your brother ok?"

Mabel realized that Bill Cipher must of healed the block Dipper had created against the sounds and that now he was open to his powers, much like Mabel was at the moment. That wasn't important though, so she began to tug on her great-uncle's hand. "He's ok, but we need to go right now...or...o-or..."

"Alright, alright, let me at least get a pair of pants on if we're going to show up at someone's house at 4 AM , ok?" Mabel knew leaving immediately was imperative, but decided to not fight Stan on the subject, knowing it would waste more time. Her great-uncle began to make his way downstairs and she followed behind. At the base of the staircase, he turned to her. "Wait here while I go get the car keys and find some pants."

She bobbed her head up and down as Stan left. The brunette paced and wrung her wrists, until he returned a minute or two later. She sprinted outside and great-uncle followed at a pace that was speedier than usual. As the ignition was started up, she began to bite at her lip, feeling as if they would never make it in time. As they made their way onto the dirt road at around 50 miles, she fidgeted. "Grunkle Stan, can you go faster?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and began to speed up to around 60 miles. "...kid, what are you expecting to find when we get there?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, mind repeating the menacing shadow looming over her. "...I...I d-don't know."

_Chapter 9 End_

**Somehow asked me in a PM when the twin's birthday is. I discovered recently that Alex Hirsch said it was the last day of summer, but I actually made it the same as his &amp; his sister's birthday, which is June 18th, making Dipper &amp; Mabel 13-years-old. I decided to just keep it the same though, since I've mentioned their ages several times in this story. ****Now, I have a bit of a warning: I have a job now (my first!) and since I go back to school next week, updates will be a bit slower. I apologize in advance. Maybe I could squeeze in one more update, before break is over, but if I can't then you all will have to wait a bit longer.  
**


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10 _

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Also, warning for this chapter is that it involves a bit heavier cursing than usual and some abuse around the beginning.**

Though Stan had doubts about Mabel and Dipper being correct about Gideon Gleeful being in danger, he had no problem breaking into the Gleeful residence if it meant calming the two down. His great-niece had just about sprinted to the gate surrounding the front door the moment they arrived, and she had threw it open. He nearly tripped, in order to catch the gate before it fully closed, to halt the rattling sound it would of released. Mabel hadn't noticed, wringing her wrists as she anxiously stared at the front door. He reached into his pants pocket and removed the lock picks he had brought with him from the Shack. As he jimmied the lock, Mabel began shake him and tell him to hurry up in a hushed whisper. "If you keep shaking me like that, it's gonna take longer for me to actually open this."

She immediately ceased doing so and was quiet as he finished. When he was finally able to unlock the it, she nearly shoved him over and began to rush in. He grasped the collar of her nightgown, halting her. "If we're gonna break in, I'm going first, ok?"

"But, bu-!"

"Not gonna argue this," He informed her, entering first. Honestly, the reason he was entering first was that a grim part of him told him something hazardous was occurring. And he rather it happened to him, than his great-niece. Mabel trailed behind him, wide eyes twitching about in what he supposed was anticipation. He peeked into the living, finding it to be empty, when she released a gasp. He looked down at her. Her tiny hands covered her eyes and she taking slow breathes. "Mabel?"

She looked up at him, fear present in her chocolate eyes. Her eyes flickered behind him and she pointed. "Grunkle Stan; there's a light."

He rotating, seeing a door with light leaking out from beneath. He frowned. If he remembered correctly, that was the 10-year-old's room. Why he was up at 4AM, was a mystery to him, but his gut told him the hazard was in there. Stan approached the room with caution, listening as a voice angrily hissed. He looked to side,witnessing Mabel with her eyes squeezed shut. Her eyes snapped open so quickly, Stan was surprised when and she went past him, thrusting the door open. Oh, shit. Stan was immediately by her side, hoping to protect her. All he could do though, was freeze at the sight before him. Though the man's back was all that was seen, Stan knew it was Bud Gleeful. And he was lifting his leg up. About to stomp on battered and bleeding Gideon Gleeful. Mabel screamed a moment later, rushing forward. "NO!"

She threw herself at the man's back, yet he didn't even budge an inch. Bud twisted his body, glaring down menacingly at the preteen. Mabel's eyes teared up as she pounded with her fists on his thick back. "IT WAS YOU I SAW! YOU'RE THE MONSTER I SAW! THE MONSTER HURTING GIDEON!"

Double shit. Stan needed to get control of this situation. He had never actually witnessed a, typically, calm Bud Gleeful this pissed off this before. "Bu-"

Before he could get a word out though, Bud whipped around and back handed her across the face so hard, that she fell onto her bottom with a cry. "Stay out of this, you little shit!"

Stan saw scarlet in his vision and he punched the man in the face. He stumbled back into his son, who screamed as Bud ran into him. Stan froze up for a moment at the screaming, and that was enough for Bud to be on him in a instant, pushing him up against the wall. Without any hesitation, he was bashing his fist into Stan's face. It was sloppy, but enough to sting and to make his glasses fall off of his face. Luckily, they hadn't broke. Unluckily, he couldn't see as well. Triple shit. The blur of Bud's fist came in for another strike, but Stan ducked and tackled him by wrapping his arms around the man's thick waist. He pulled away when they moved a few feet and swiftly backed away. Stan plucked up his glasses quickly and placed them back onto his face. "What the hell is going on, Gleeful?! Why does your son look like that?!"

The child had blood caked on his face and dripping down his chin, stemming from his nose. One of his eyes was darkening and becoming bruised. His snow white hair appeared in complete chaos, unruly. He was gasping, curled in fetal position, grasping his leg in what appeared in agony. Bud was panting, face beat red in anger. "How I discipline my own spawn in my own house is none of your damn business, Pines!"

What? He was stunned, moving actually gaping open. Bud Gleeful thought this...this abuse was discipline? Abuse. That's what this was. He would of never thought Bud to be one to do so. He typically appeared so carefree, gullible, and the victim of his son's own verbal abuse. That was the thing though; if he usually did abuse Gideon, wouldn't he beat his son for treating him like that public? Something wasn't adding up. "Discipline?"

"Yeah, the little motherfucker snuck out of the house after bedtime! I've been pretty lenient these past few years, but it looks like I need to show him his damn place, just like before!"

From what Stan understood, it seemed as though Bud had beat his son before, but had ceased doing so. But, Jesus Christ, to bruise and bloody the 10-year-old was beyond characteristic discipline. He himself was born during a time when if you were bad, you would be beat on your bottom with a paddle and get an occasional slap if it was particular bad offense (though the slap was only given to him twice, but his father only did it when he first stole something and again when he did something stupid that ended up giving his brother a broken arm). What the hell was wrong with this man? He suddenly recalled Mabel had been hit. He glanced over to the side and saw Mabel sitting on the ground, covering her cheek, staring at the two of them in shock. He needed to stay calm or he was going to make her more afraid. "Bud, that ain't discipline; that's abuse."

The man's face seemed to grow redder, if this was even possible. "THAT BRAT NEEDS TO KNOW IF HE DISOBEYS ME, THERE DAMN-WELL WILL BE A PUNISHMENT!" Stan heard Gideon crying and watched how the boy covered his eyes, trembling in fear. Bud whipped back around, pointing at the 10-year-old. "What have I told you about crying, YOU BRAT!"

He sobbed louder and finally Stan had enough. "If you don't step away from him in five seconds Gleeful, I'm going to bash your damn face in."

The man glowered at him. "I own him and I will do whatever I want with him!"

Stan was becoming more and more angry. "I'm giving you two more seconds."

"You asshole! You wouldn't dare hit me again! And I know you wouldn't want me to call the cops for breaking in."

"I ain't afraid of no cops, Gleeful, now step away."

Bud eyed Mabel, and then stood closer to Stan, crossing his arms as he loomed menacingly over the elder man, who was a good foot or two shorter."If you don't leave Pines and not utter a word, I won't have to beat _that_ little shit as well."

Threatening his niece was what crossed the line. His anger exploded in a fury and he gave the taller man the classic left hook. The man immediately went down like a tree, down and out for the count. "Whose the asshole now, Gleeful?"

"...G-Grunkle Stan?" A meek voice asked from behind, sounding distant.

He turned to see Mabel, legs curled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her cheek appeared a bit swollen, but not as bad as it could of been. He probably scared her with his cursing and the fighting. "You ok, kid?"

She hastily nodded and her eyes flickered over to behind him. "Is...I-Is he...o-ok?"

He had nearly forgotten why they showed up in the first place. He rushed over and knelt down next to the now silent boy. He looked worse close up, hands bruised and suit torn in certain areas. And the blood was still seeping out of his crooked nose. "...uh, kid?" Gideon didn't reply. Did he pass out? Stan reached out to touch his shoulder and the boy cried at him. Stan jerked his hand away. "Hey, I ain't gonna hurt you. See? I won't even touch you."

This was bad. Jesus Christ. They needed a-his thought trailed off as he saw a oval stone near the boy's head. What was that? He picked it up and studied it. It had a grayed appearance to it. It wasn't a stone, but in fact a jewel he realized. There something stra-it began to glow a bluish hue and he dropped it in surprise. He was even more surprised when Gideon's hand shot from his face and grasped the jewel in his hand. He stared at it, greedy awe in his eyes and an eerie smile stretching across his face. Then, to his amazement, the boy's black eye began to fade. "What the Honey Nut Che-"

Mabel was directly behind him, tugging at the back of his white wife-beater. "Grunkle Stan, get away!"

"But, the ki-"

There seemed to be a shift in the air, causing the hairs on the back of his neck and arms to stand on end. His eyes widened. He knew that feeling. Shit. He hopped up and reached down to touch her shoulders. He peered into her frightened chocolate eyes. "Mabel, we need to l-"

"S-She's here." Mabel whimpered with wide eyes. Wait she? It was supposed t-

Mabel gasped, eyes directing their gaze behind him. He peeked over his shoulder staring at Gideon and the jewel. Everything appeared the same and nothing was there. Except, he felt a bit sleepy. No. That was happened last time, when he...he...his eyes blinked shut against his will and a few moments later his opened his eyes to see the world in black and white. No, no. Not again. He couldn't go against Bill Cipher, again. He just couldn't. Mabel clung the side of his wife beater and they both stared at Gideon. As the blood vanished from him, nose forming back to its natural shape. Mabel was trembling wildly at this occurrence. They needed out now. If Bill Cipher showed up, they were screwed. Bill didn't show up though. Instead, to his amazement, a 3-D, star-like shape began to appear, floating above the 10-year-old. It was glowing the same hue as the jewel Gideon held. The had a white feather boa, wrapped around the stick arms reminded him of one of those 1920's flappers that wrapped those boas around their bodies. The white pair of high heels on its long stick legs seemed to be sparkling from its glowing body. He studied the face, noticing the thick eyelashes and white eye shadow above the single eye. He would of laughed at how odd "she" appeared to be, if he didn't feel his heart thumping in anticipation or the confusion popping up. "What i-"

"_Oh, pretty, pretty Shooting Star! I would of never thought you would be the one to show up!_" She purred in what Stan felt was elation. Why was she speaking to Mabel? And who was this...dream demon? He wasn't even aware there was another like Bill.

Mabel clung harder, partly hiding her body behind Stan. "P-Please..."

"_Oh sweetie, your pleas are delicious,_" The star breathed out. Mabel squeezed her eyes shut as the voice approached her. Stan didn't like this a bit. The star's eye seemed to narrow and glare downwards. "_Get up, Giddy. Your leg should be healed now, so no need to be so dramatic._"

The boy immediately sat up, appearing full of energy. "Yes, mam."

She giggled at him. "_Your little southern twang is darling!_"

Gideon hopped up, appearing as eager as a puppy, and Stan couldn't help but gape at him. The 10-year-old was standing on what had been minutes before, a broken leg. "H-Ho-"

Her eye swiveled around to the elder man and she floated closer. Stan felt alarms blaring in his head and Mabel pressed her face into his side. "_Fingers?_"

Stan stiffened. That was what Bill Cipher called his brother. Her eye bored into his, before voicing her distaste. "_No, you're Crescent. What a shame; you're brother is much more fascinating._"

"Crescent" was what Bill had called him, he thought with a shudder. Wait, brother. Jesus Christ, this dream demon also knew about his brother. "You...y-you..."

"_Oh, I never introduced myself,_" She stated, facing Mabel. _ "I'm sure you're dying to know, my pretty Shooting Star._"

His top was growing wet, from what he realized was his great-niece's tears. He growled, fear disappearing and shock disappearing. "Shut your mouth."

Her eye widened, swiveling back to him. "_Excuse me?_"

"I said shut up, you stupid ninja star."

She was suddenly up into his face and Stan gasped at the intensity of light. "_You obviously don't know your place, Crescent._"

Anyone that stated that phrase, was not good news. He wanted to reply with some snark, but found his mouth too dry to speak. "_You are an a mere bag of_ _flesh and water. I, on the other-hand, am an omnipotent and gorgeous demon._"

"Mam?" Gideon questioned, sounding meek.

Her appearance lightened up in an instant and she floated over to Gideon, patting his head. His hair immediately returned to its perfect shape, blood vanishing from it. "_I'm_ _paying attention to you, my little marshmallow._"

Marshmallow. That was one of Gideon's creepy nicknames for Mabel. Now that he thought about it, the relationship between these two seemed wrong. It was as if Gideon was a lost puppy without its overly possessive owner. He shivered. When she turned back to the pair of them, her eye sparkled with joy. "_I am Jill Rephic, demon of the north! You may call me 'mam' or 'beautiful' though._"

He shuddered at the seductive tone and she floated closer. "_Sweetie, your shyness is simply divine! But, I want a better look at you!_" She beckoned Mabel with a finger and she was thrust forward by an invisible force, towards the demon. Stan felt a tug from Mabel's grip and stumbled forward a step. She was now directly in front of Jill, trembling like a leaf. Jill reached out and stroked Mabel's cheek with a squeal. "_Your skin is so soft!_"

Mabel began to scream, but was silenced when Jill made a horizontal swipe motion with her forefinger. Stan was immediately by his great-niece's side, pushing her behind him. "If you touch my niece one more time, I'm going to kill you."

Her body began to redden in what appeared to be anger. "_Crescent, you have quite the mouth!_" Her appearance returned to normal a moment later. "_You should be lucky I haven't put you to sleep yet. The only reason why I haven't, is because I need answers._"

Stan glared defiantly. "I ain't answering anything, you stupid ball of gas."

Her eye glowed a bluish hue, resembling her body. "_You would be wise not to further anger me. I wish to know where Stanley Pines is._"

"My pops has been long and dead for at least 60-something years."

Stan felt a snap in his leg and he released a scream, before losing balance, and landing on the floor. Mabel shrieked his name in horror and he released gasps in reply, attempting to control the level of pain. The image of the glowing star blurred before him, but he knew she was pissed. "_YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO I MEAN! YOUR BROTHER, STANLEY PINES JR!_"

Stan choked on his breath, partly in pain, partly in shock that she knew that his brother existed. Jesus Christ, he couldn't handle the pain engulfing him. He need relief quick, oh, he needed now! He needed th-Then, there was an echoing snap and his leg was forced back into place. He gagged at the pain, before it vanished completely. In a daze, he realized his leg had been healed. "H-Ho-"

She rolled her eye. "_I am a dream demon, you fool. Now, if you don't wish to experience the pain once more, you will answer me!_"

"He died a long time ago." Stan smoothly lied.

"_Crescent, you are testing my patien-_"

"He doesn't know!" Mabel sobbed.

Jill eye swiveled to the trembling girl. "_You know something, don't you, my darling peach?_"

Stan's eyes widened. No, Mabel didn't know anything and now she was going to get hurt, just as he did. "She doesn't know anything! She thinks he left the family a long time ago."

Mabel bit her lip and glanced down. "_Oh, Crescent. You're wrong about that. She seems to know something._"

What? What could she possibly know about what happened his brother? There was no way that she would know that he was sucked into a portal. Her mouthed opened as she trembled wildly. "H-He...h-he's hiding i-in the b-bunker i-in the w-woods..."

She seemed to beam, patting the brunette's head. "_Thank you, Shooting Star. You've made me so happy! Giddy darling, time to leave._"

Gideon held out his quivering hand and she snatched it, before they vanished in a flash of dazzling, pure light. When Stan blinked, he and his great-niece were laid upon the floor, slowly waking. Bud groaned aloud next to him and Stan froze. "Augh...What in tarnation hap-" He blinked at them as they froze. "What are you doing in my house? Oh, I must of invited you folks in!" He laughed in glee, appearing to be his original, gullible self.

Stan furrowed his brows, sitting up. Something was off. "You're lying.

His face morphed into fury, before lunging at the elder man. Stan punched him in face, knocking him out once more. Mabel screeched in astonishment. "Grunkle Stan!"

"It's better if he says out, kid. There's something fishy going on with him," He observed Mabel. "Mabel, you know your grandfather isn't there, right? And how did you know about that bunker in the first place?"

She gasped, as if realization had hit her. "Grunkle Stan, we need candles! Right now!"

Mabel began to investigate the contents of a dresser in Gideon's room, searching for candles. "Wait, hold on! You're not answering my questions."

The brunette revealed a whole drawer to be brimming with candles and began removing them. Stan placed both of his hands on each of her shoulders touched her and she looked up at him in distress. "S-She's going to know I lied. W-We need to p-put up these candles quick."

She began to make a circle of them and his eyes widened at her actions. His great-niece knew about this dream demon before he even did and was now setting up candles as if beginning a summoning. "...Mabel have...have you met...Bill Cipher?"

Mabel halted setting up the candles. "You know...you...he..."

"Son of a..." Stan breathed. Then, he grew angry. "Didn't I warn you?! I told you and your brother not to get involved with this stuff!"

Mabel cringed guilty. "Grunkle...Grunkle S-Stan...I-"

Stan snatched some candles from her grip with a huff and continued the circle. "We're going to talk about this later, but I need to know right now, why we're doing this. Are we summoning Bill Cipher?"

She shook her head as Stan pulled out a lighter he always carried on him, from the pocket of his slacks. "Gideon made a contract...and I know how to get him out."

Stan appeared stunned. "T-There's a way to break it?"

"I didn't know until Bill told me."

Stan raised an eyebrow. That didn't seemed right. "He willingly told you?"

"Well, uh...yes?"

Something else was going on. Why would he willingly tel- "Mabel, don't tell me you made a deal."

She gulped and Stan hung his head, placing his face into one of his hands. "Cheese and crackers...What did you do?"

Mabel was gulping repeatedly. "I-I-"

Stan looked up at her, appearing furious. "What did you do?!"

"...h-he would tell m-me how to break the c-contract...if...if I rescue Grandpa Stanley."

That was how she knew. From Bill Cipher. "He told you about the portal."

She frowned, confused. "What portal?"

Stan frowned at her. "You don't...he didn't tell you?"

"No...um, I know...I know where he is though."

How the hell did she know where he was? Right as he was about to question further, there was a shift in the air, a tingle rolling down his spine. Stan and Mabel looked at each other. Stan began to light the candles as fast as he could and Mabel's head lolled dozily. He only had two more when he grew sleepy. His eyes drooped and he look to Mabel who was blearily blinking at him as she went to her hands and knees. He reached a sluggish hand out, attempting to light another one. His hand missed the first time, but the second time he got it. He needed one more, but that was when he realized that he wasn't capable of doing so. Stan tried though, yet the lighter dropped the the floor and he slumped forward, on his hands and knees. "Mab...need to...cand...le..."

His vision wavered and he watched his great-niece crawling towards him. "...last...Mab..."

He completely went out and a moment later the room flashed white, losing all saturation. Jill Rephic appeared, larger than before, and completely red in a blazing ferocity, voice rumbling the foundation of the house. "_YOU LIED_ _TO ME SHOOTING STAR!_"

He glanced over at Mabel and grinned to himself in relief. The last candle was lit and she stood tall in the center of the circle, though trembling in fear. The dream demon froze, studying the candles. Her eyes flickered over to Gideon, who looked beyond terrified at Jill. One of his fists was clenched and light spilled out from it. As Jill began to laugh, her hue returning to normal and she struck to the appropriate size. "_You can't summon little ol' Bill, sweetie. I've marked this house as mine," _Mabel fidgeted, not speaking. Stan gulped, wishing he asked Mabel how this all worked, so he could be of help. Jill continued on though, seemingly oblivious to their scheme. "_You don't need that_ _silly triangle anyways; all you need is me!_"

Mabel's eyes flickered back and forth, between Gideon and Stan. The chocolate eyes did that a couple of times and Stan realized she was attempting to communicate something to him about the 10-year-old. Stan tenderly stood, joints creaking, observing Gideon and then Mabel. "I...I...think I n-need a h-hand with s-something."

"_Oh? Would you like to make a deal with me, pumpkin?_"

"O-Or a h-hand."

She was presenting him with a hint. Jesus, she was becoming like him more and more like him. The elder man wasn't all that sure if that was good or bad. God, his nephew was going to murder him if he ended up doing that to her. If they escaped this. A hand though? Symbolism was what he was initially going for, but realized that wasn't how Mabel operated. It must of been someone's hand. Whose han-Gideon. The jewel. Did she need to jewel? In the mean time, Jill Rephic's eye lit up at the brunette. "_A hand with something? That must mean a deal!_" Stan gulped. He didn't want his great-niece involved with anymore deals. He needed to pick up the pace. The elder man began to edge to the boy, still eyeing the dream demon and Mabel. She nodded to Jill. "_Well, why didn't you say so! What sort of deal do you want!_"

The dream demon floated right to the edge of circle, not quiet touching it. Great, he was in her blind spot now. He moved a bit faster, nearly there. Gideon noticed him and stared at him in alarm. Stan halted movement. His mouth was opening wide, as if to scream at the elder man. He fervently shook his head at Gideon. The boy snapped his mouth shut, appearing to be struggling internally. Then, he squeezed his eyes shut, painfully clenching his jaw. Stan edged closer and was now beside him. Stan mildly tapped the boy's fist and his eyes shot open at the touch. His lighter eyes surprised him for a moment, recalling Gideon's eyes to be darker, but, then he held out his hand for the jewel. Gideon appeared terrified, and for the second time this night, Stan didn't see him as an annoying punk that always challenged him and tried to disrupt his life. Stan leaned closer and Gideon flinched at the close movement. "I can break the contract."

He trembled as he stared with wide eyes. His voice came out whispered and hoarse as his eyes teared up. "W-Why?"

Stan blinked in surprise. "What?"

"W-Why do you want to b-break it?"

Stan furrowed his eyebrows. "To escape her?"

Gideon vehemently shook his head, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "I may not be free and I'm not in control of my emotions, but I rather it be like this. I rather be captured, than have my Daddy hit me everyday and call me worthless."

It hit Stan like a brick wall. When the 10-year-old finally cracked under Bud Gleeful's abuse, Gideon had made a deal with Jill Rephic to stop it, in exchange for his own freedom. Stan was completely speechless, shocked that Bud had reduced his own blood to this. And Stan, imaging if this was Mabel or Dipper, reached out and set his hand on the quivering boy's shoulder, surprisingly sympathetic with his situation. Stan decided in that moment that he would rescue him from this. He peered into the child's tear filled eyes, before speaking unusually softly. "I won't let him anymore. I can help; all you need to do is give me the jewel."

Gideon peered into his own, before finally whispering to him what, Stan knew deep down, was he himself would reply. "I don't trust you."

"_Giddy, darling, I think play time is over,_" Jill stated with a giggle, turning to the pair. Mabel's eyes widened in horror as she disappeared and reappeared next to Stan, who was shocked at the realization that she knew he was over here the whole time. His eyes widened as his his left arm snapped and he screamed in agony, worse than the last time. "_Crescent, you_ _have tested my patience far too much. The only reason why you are not dead yet, is because I need to find your brother. Lucky you!_"

His vision wavered, much like before, and he saw Mabel covering her mouth in undisguised horror. Jill turned to Mabel, beaming in delight. "_Now, pumpkin, do tell me where_ _your grandfather is; I know you do._"

"Mab...don't...know..." Stan panted out.

Jill rolled her eye. "_Your uncle is possibly the most exasperating human I have had the displeasure of meeting. And I thought the Northwests from North Dakota were troublesome._"

Stan was in torment, mind screeching, not even realizing the possibility behind those words. Breaking his arm seemed to have more pain behind it than his leg and he knew she was going to make him suffer much longer, before she even considered to heal him of his damage. Or, if she ever did. "I...I-I'll tell y-you if y-you fix his a-arm!"

"_I don't believe I should, honey. You lied last time, so whose to say you won't again if I heal it right at this moment._"

Tears rolled down her pale face and she sobbed as she turned her gaze away from her great-uncle. "He...H-He's in a-another u-universe!"

Stan knew the portal was supposed to go another universe. He hadn't been sure that it did back when his brother and Fiddleford McGucket had created it, but then was reminded about the oddities of Gravity Falls. Finally, after everything went to hell, did he believe and knew, or at least hoped to God, that his brother was still alive. Stanley had to be. If he wasn't, Stan wasn't sure what he would do next. Possibly something reckless. The fact that Mabel knew and hadn't been told about the portal confused him though. His thoughts screwed off course though, distracted by the pulsing in his arm. His eyes were actually watering up, unable to help himself. The dream demon giggled wickedly. "_My dear, you have made me quite happy. There is only one other universe_ _Bill Cipher could get him into and you gave me precisely the information I needed._"

She knew. She knew exactly how to get there, Stan realized in horror. She turned to Gideon and his face was blank, no tears visible any longer. Stan knew he should of felt angry at the boy for not trusting him. Typically, he would of. But, he realized, he wouldn't even trust himself. And, Stan himself would never get the boy to trust him enough to rescue him from the dream demon. She was leering at him. Jill knew precisely how much control she had over him and was relishing in it. But, then, she spoke a sentence that made Stan's blood freeze cold. "_My little Giddy, were you thinking of betraying me?"_

Gideon's face immediately melted into fear. He shook his head in reply. She floated closer. "_Gideon, that amulet connects you and me. It makes it so I have_ _some control of your emotions. And, when I don't, I know what you feel._"

Gideon released a choked noise. "B-But, I d-didn't betra-"

"_My precious dumpling, I believe I've outgrown you. I may of saved you from your Daddy's rein, but we are done now,_" She cooed. With a snap of finger, a hefty packet appeared before her in a puff of smoke, floating in the air. "_Now, to summarize this contract, if I 'make' you 'more powerful' than your 'Daddy' in order to cease the 'pain' inflicted upon you, you, in exchange, would give me control of your body and mind. Now, when there were signs of your body being unable to handle the power a beautiful creature such as myself, we needed to fine tune some of the details. I still would 'make' you 'more powerful', but instead you had to carry my amulet around, which connects me to you, in order to make sure you are in control of your end of the deal. However, you never clarified the precise length of time, so I am able to terminate this agreement at anytime I please. And, when terminating a agreement, my own personal rule, is for me to put them into an eternal sleep._"

_End Chapter 10_

**So, when I first started this fic, I wasn't intending on majorly including Gideon into the plot. I honestly had to change up like half the plot just for me to be satisfied with what part he would play once I decided I actually did want him. I really hope you all like him for this fic, especially since in this one, my theory is that Gideon only acted how he did since Jill Rephic was influencing his behavior, meaning he isn't actually all that creepy or evil in the first place. Tell me what you all think of him. :) Ok, now that we're at a certain point in the story though, I will reveal a certain key to a certain set of numbers from previous chapters you all of likely noticed by this point in the story. KEY: _ALPHABET_. I'm sure all you amazing people will figure it out right away. Just leave a private message or review with your answers from each chapter and whoever does it first (and correctly) will get a virtual cookie!  
**


	12. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls and some of the dialogue in this chapter, not me.**

It was dark. It was dark, a vortex of a stars glittered the night surrounding him, yet he could visualize all of the voices. He could visualize every sound. Yes, there were no images to be seen with those words, but he witnessed what was meant to be heard. Words, coming in with waves of mumbles, whispers, and hissings. He couldn't understand them. Clear statements were beginning to increase in sound though. So many voices. He simply needed to focus in order to decipher them. He listened. He listened and he heard the past, the present, and the future.

"Mom...he's...Dipper is acting sorta...I think there's something wrong, Mom." A ripple wavered within him. Mabel. Connection.

"OH MY GOD, DIPPER?! ALEX! ALEX, COME HERE! DIPPER, OH MY GOD, DIPPER I-"

"JESUS CHRIST! ARIEL, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!"

"I love you, bro-bro. I just wanted to tell you that..."

"Dipper, he doesn't look creepy! He looks like a kind, old man. He's probably Great-Uncle Stanford!"

"Are you two kiddos Mabel and...uh, whatever your name is?"

"Hey, what up? You can call me Wendy."

"I put the handy in handyman! Haha, get it, cause I'm a handyman and my hands are...A-Anyways, I'm Soos."

"This attic is amazing! And look at all the splinters!"

"I missed this guy! You done good, kids."

"Hello America! My name is Lil' Gideon!" A ripple wavered within him. Gideon Charles Gleeful. Connection.

"Your family has a weak spot, and I'm going to find it!" Gideon wasn't himself at that moment, he was being influenced by Jill Rephic.

"Dudes! I found some kind of secret hidden room in the Shack!"

"Yeesh, this carpet is ugly." Stan didn't own that carpet, someone else did.

"You do care about me."

Sentences, became conversations.

"I was doing my hourly hootnanny!" Old Man McGucket?

"Ugh, this guy." Grunkle Stan? On the surface, it seemed as though he was disgusted with McGucket, yet there was a hint of deceit, as if he lying about how he truly felt.

"I can live without the kid talking to me all the time...telling me her jokes...making me laugh..." No. He couldn't. Not again. Stan had already been rejected by a significant other of his once, he couldn't do it again.

"_Oh, oh, Gravity Falls! It is good to be back! Name's Bill Cipher and I take it you're some kind of living ventriloquist dummy? Haha, I'm kidding; I know who you are, Gideon._" There was no teasing in reality. Gideon was a ventriloquist dummy, actions and mind controlled by Jill Rephic. Bill Cipher had known the whole since he first was summoned to this mysterious town.

"He's really coming along. When push comes to shove, I'm actually proud of him."

"_A darkness approaches. A day will come in the future when everything you care about will change._" Jill Rephic was approaching.

"What? Bill...? Who? What are you guys talking about?" Stan seemed nearly frightened, when he echoed the name of the dream demon.

The voices seemed to become less ominous. "Don't worry, your son and daughter are fine."

"Oh, well where are you three staying?" The concerned voice of his mother, Ariel Pines.

"Where we staying? Uh, I put them up in this amazing four-star hotel."

"Oh, thank goodness. Do you have enough money? Plenty of food?"

"What, uh, sure we got plenty to eat."

"But, what a-"

"Relax, if I thought I couldn't take care of these kids, I'll send them back right away."

"I know, Stan, but having your own home infested with rats sounds horrifying. I'm sorry you have to go through such a thing...Oh, Alex is on the other line, so I need to go. He's probably calling to tell me if he got that promotion or not. I hope you and the children have a great night."

"Uh, huh, you too." And he hung up, concerned as much as Ariel Pines was.

"Look, I lost, okay?" It wasn't the first time he had to accept defeat. And, it hurt Stan as much as the previous time he did.

"Waiter, give me a glass of the strongest most expired apple cider you got." He hadn't had a glass in years, ever since he decided to stop moping about, knowing his brother would be pissed at him. It seemed though, he had begun to return to his darkness.

"Where are you journal? Where are you?!" Gideon wasn't actually angry, no Jill Rephic was. She needed it. She needed it to locate that Stanley Pines.

"Well Stan, this is it. Rock bottom. No friends, no family..." He had been there before. It wasn't as bad as the first, nothing could compare to that, but it still hurt, that darkness creeping into his mind.

"Please, I...It's not what it looks like...what are you going to do with me?" His true self was leaking out of the cracks of Jill's control. It actually wasn't what it looked like. She had suggested this psychic act from the start.

"After all these years. I finally have them all...Thirty, long years and it's all led up to this." What did he have? Thirty years?

"If I finally pull this off, it'll all be worth it." Worth it. He had been waiting for the mystery. Thirty years and now he's back, the mystery in the Mystery Shack. Back? But, he wasn't back yet? Yet? He? Who was he?

"The six fingered nerd hasn't been himself been himself in thirty years!" Yes, he's not been himself. He's too cheerful. Being stuck all those years, alone, has made him different. His mask is a smile, hoping not to concern his granddaughter, the only person able to see him.

"_It was just a job, kid. No hard feelings! I've been keeping an EYE ON YOU since then, and I must say I'm impressed._"

"_I only ask for a small FAVOR is return._" Favor. Demon always have an alternative motive. What's Bill Cipher's this time?

"_I can help you, kid. You just need to hear out my demands._" Only time would tell.

"_Tick-tock, kid._" Time? He was running out of time. Someone needed help. Who needed help? MABE-

"_Eenie, meenie, mynie, YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU._"

"_Man, it has been so long since I inhabited a body!_" Who else? Who else has Bill Cipher broken?

"_Look kid, you've been getting way to close to finding out some major answers. I've got big plans coming and I don't need you getting in the way._" It wasn't even supposed to be his density. He didn't even belong on the wheel in the first place and it was ravaging Bill's-no, density's plans.

"_Big things are coming! You can't stop me!_" Jill Rephic was approaching, yet Bill Cipher was fighting through it.

"_Race you to the bottom of the stairs!_" A twitch of fear echoed in him. Staircases. That voice, of a woman, following him. Get away, get away. GET AWAY.

"It is unseen." That sounded sort of like...Old Man McGucket?

"Everything before 1982 is just a blur...just a hazy...THE BLIND EYE! Robes, the men, my mind!"

"Novus ordo seclorum, novus ordo seclorum, novus ordo seclorum..."

"Into the hall of the forgotten..."

"You can't break what's already broken!" Broken. Broken the reflection of yourself. All of ourselves. Broken our mirrors.

"My name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket and I wish to unsee what I have seen. For the past year, I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher. He has been cataloging his findings about Gravity Falls in a series of journals. I helped him build a machine which he believed had the potential to benefit all mankind, but something went wrong. I decided to quit the project. But I lie awake at night, haunted by the thoughts of what I've done. I believe I have invented a machine that can permanently erase these memories from my mind." He appeared exhausted, tormented by what has occurred.

"I call it, the Society of the Blind Eye. We will help those who want to forget by erasing their bad memories!"

"It's all so familiar. It's almost like I can remember..."

"I'm gonna pull this off and no one's gonna get in my way!" Pull what off? What's Stan doing?

"I know who my family is now, and it's you dudes."

"But, you were right; I just needed to move on." Robbie Valentio?

"You wanna know why this room was locked up? This is what I found in here. A painted record of every horrible thing that my family's ever done. Lying, cheating, and then there's me. I lied to you just because I'm too scared to talk back to my stupid parents! You were right about me. I _am_ just another link in the world's worst chain."

"Our family name is broken and I'm gonna to fix it!"

"Your...your wheezing is kinda worrying me, kiddo."

"You can see me...none have been _able_ to see me."

"...I was right when I thought you saw me _that_ night though."

"Dipper...Dipper has always been a worry-wart about...about everything. He was b-born like that. It got...it got pretty bad though..."

"And, Kid, I...c-care about you two and I'm going to make up saying that to the both of you."

"Yes, well that is the best way to explain my situation right now. In a way, I'm stuck in the 'rabbit hole' leading to Wonderland. Half way to that fantasy land and have way in reality."

"Yes. I guess in other words, I'm, well, your grandfather."

"No, this is: Blacks, gays, and handicaps, are all normal people, just like me and you. And anyone that says otherwise is stupid."

"Mabel, it's really important that you tell him something from me."

"Oh, they haven't been together for a great many of years."

"Could you tell Stan to stop?" Stop? What was Stan doing?

"Gideon? Gideon, it's me, Mabel. Gideon? Are you ok?"

"_Giddy_..._the_ _Pines_..._can't_..._protect_..."

"_Pine Tree, you and Shooting Star shouldn't be involved with this_."

"I'll protect you, ok? You don't need her."

"Oh, you must be Dipper! So, you can hear me. I thought you did that one day in the hall. I apologize for that by the way. Simply talking aloud to myself."

"Yes, I'm Stanford Pines. A lot of folks in this town think my full name is Stanley though."

"Kid, sometimes folks want to see the best in others."

"_REMEMBER_..._DEAL_."

"Do you think...maybe you forced yourself not to...feel other things?" He had broken his connection, blocking himself from sound, in his fear he had disconnected.

"_Yep. A deal. He's bond to it and no other demons can interfere with that__...Never show her fear or worse, acceptance;_ _she feeds off of that._"

"_Shooting Star, I have never lied. I have truthfully told my clients my terms, and how they interpret my intentions are their decisions, not mine. And, there are much, much worse things I could do than lie. Much worse things I am capable of, yet I don't do them, unlike she would._"

"_You needed my presence to let yourself 'hear' again._" He was connected now.

"_Trust your great-uncle if it involves family matters."_

_"In exchange though, you just need to get your Gramps out of the 'rabbit hole'._"

"He's warning us. Dipper, I feel it. I feel he's in danger, too."

These echoes, they were of the past. Some he knew, others he didn't. The future. The future seemed to echo inside his mind. "IT WAS YOU I SAW! YOU'RE THE MONSTER I SAW! THE MONSTER HURTING GIDEON!"

"_Oh, pretty, pretty Shooting Star! I would of never thought you would be the one to show up!_"

"I...I'll make the deal if...i-if you d-don't kill him..." Mabel? Deal?

"D-Damn it, S-Stanford!"

"My mami...she's in the hospital...I...I need some time off, Mr. Pines..."

"W-When I was f-five, my m-mom...she...she...s-she fell off t-the ladder in front o-of me and b-broke her neck...s-she died right a-away..."

"I remember when I was nine, my dad looked me in the eye and said 'your mother and I smile and make jokes all the time to ignore the fact that we have to be around dead people and their grieving families'. And, after that, I realized I didn't deserve to be happy, so I just stopped. I stopped being happy and when I tried to be happy again, I couldn't."

"My parents are sending me away to a boarding school. In France. They don't like my 'attitude'. So, I guess this is the last time I'll see you for awhile."

"I...I still see _h-her_ when I...I close my e-eyes...and my...my D-Daddy, too...I w-wish my M-Ma...never h-had me..."

"Kid, you need to understand, I do everything for the sake of this family, so you need to...you need to trust me."

"...S-Stanley? Lee, is that...is that really y-you?"

"_I NEVER GOT MINE. SO, I MADE MY OWN. WHY AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME, FATHER?! WHY?!_"

"Dipper, Dipper it's ok. Let go. Just, let go."

"I remember the last time I talked to her, she told me 'I never told him about my situation, because I knew he would drop everything, just to come and help. I couldn't do that to him'. She still cared about him, even after all those years."

"I'm...I'm Stanford Pines's son."

"Dipper, I miss him." Mabel.

His voice, echoed in reply. "Me too."

"_Tick-tock, kid._" A sense of urgency surged through him. Hurry, hurry, before it's too late. Only so much time before...Mabel. He remembered. He heard Gideon was in danger. He warned her. He had warned Grunkle Stan. They had left, but now they were in danger as well. Bill couldn't help, Jill had used barriers against him. The barriers. He couldn't enter the barriers from the outside. But...what if...what if he entered from the inside? He woke, with a gasp, plan forming in his mind.

_Chapter 11 End_

**Oh my, nobody attempted to decipher my codes! Do you all need more of a hint? I can give you all another if you need one? Uhhhh, how about this: _26_ _NUMBERS_. I'll give you readers more time to figure it out in the meanwhile. Anyways, this chapter was mostly a filler, though the ending of this chapter gave you all a sneak peek of what will come in future chapters, so I hope you all enjoy that. Reviews as always are appreciated! :)**


	13. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.  
**

Dipper panted, standing before the Gleeful residence, eyes wide. Voices were jumbling about in his mind and he felt hyperactive about his environment, almost though he was high. Why in the world had he shut himself off from this? This was the best he's felt in years! He grinned in excitement, despite the knowledge of danger present in his mind. He licked his lips, silently opening the the front gate and clicking it shut. Dipper paused before the front door, discovering it to be unlocked. The brunet slipped inside, immediately spotting the lighting of the opened door. He went into the living room and unzipped his backpack, dumping the contents out. He froze, as a familiar voice wavered into his ears. It was _her_. That high he seemed to be on, was lowering significantly. His nerves were returning and his hands trembled as he created a circle with his uninjured arm. It was a complete inconvenience that his arm was in the stupid brace. He dug into his backpack, searching for the matches. Dipper stifled a gasp when he heard a scream of agony from his great-uncle. He closed his eyes and pulled his legs up to his chest. His high was becoming a low. He couldn't do this. He was such a coward. Such a coward. He...he...a voice echoed in his head. "_Kid, you can_ _do it._"

Grunkle Stan? A voice of comfort, echoing from the future. Dipper uncurled himself and continued his search, grasping onto the pack of matches. He pulled one out, striking it on the bottom of his shoe, and began to light the circle. He finished, standing in the center of the circle, hand holding the letter. He could do this, he could do this, even though the thought of summoning the dream demon here made him feel ill. " T-Triangulum, entangulum. Vene foris dominus mentium. Vene foris videntis o-omnium."

There seemed to be a shift in the air, and the background lost all of it's pigments. Bill Cipher suddenly appeared in a blaze of golden light. Dipper gasped, staggering away in surprise, and Bill grabbed hold of his shirt, keeping him from falling onto the candles. "_Pine Tree, how you haven't gotten yourself killed_ _is short of a miracle._"

"I-I-"

"_She knows I'm here_," Bill stated, eye narrowing. With his free hand, he snapped his fingers, and the candles all went out. Dipper was released and fell onto his back, candles swooshing beneath him. The brunet gasped, feeling heat seep into him. "_Kid, we have about ten seconds to do this._" Bill told him and a unseen force tugged out a single piece of Dipper's hair.

He grasped at his head. "Ow!"

The piece of his hair floated to Bill. A miniature vial popped into existence, floating before the dream demon, with a snap of his fingers. Dipper froze at this, observing as the demon uncorking it with his hand. It was blood. Dipper had no idea what it was from and he was beginning to tremble from the sight, though surprisingly not from the demon itself. "W-What is that?"

The demon squinted at him, and crammed the piece of hair into it. An enormous mouth presented itself in the form of a Cheshire Cat grin, and he was further shocked as the demon drank the blood and hair. Bill began to glow a brilliant golden color and his voice came out in a booming echo. "_PINE TREE, YOU ARE BY FAR MY FAVORITE ON MY WHEEL. YOU HAVE SO MUCH POWER!_"

Dipper's fear of the demon grew and a upbeat, ragtime tune he recognized, began to echo throughout the room. "W-Wha-?"

"_The Entertainer! You are really something if you can hear that!_"

Another tune eagerly responded to his own and he lost his maniac grin, replacing it with appearance of concentration. A steady beat, that Dipper recalled to be "Uptown Blues", echoed in challenge to Bill. A glowing bluish star appeared before Dipper and he covered his mouth with trembling hands. IT WAS _HER_. IT WAS JILL REPHIC. He knew the moment his chocolate eyes settled on her. His breath came out in a whoosh, leaving him unable to take one back in. "_Bill, I haven't seen you in such the longest of times!_"

Bill didn't respond with her exuberance though. "_Jill, you keep mucking up what you shouldn't be._"

She giggled. "_Always getting straight down to business I see. __You are such a cutie, Bill._"

"_Will I be a 'cutie' after I banish you from here?_"

Her giggling stopped and a pouty tone emerged. "_But, why would you do such a thing? I'm having tons of fun with Giddy, and Fez, and Shooting Star!_"

Dipper felt a anger wash over him, fear melting away. "YOU STAY AWAY FROM THEM!"

A screech rippled throughout the air, as she turned her attention to him. "_YOU ARE A UNNECESSARY NUISANCE! BE GONE, YOU DISGUSTING THING!_"

Dipper gasped aloud, covering his ears in pain from the sheer volume of her voice and her music. Her hand made a flick motion, and he was flung back, only to be pulled forward, back to his original spot. The brunet released a moan at the abrupt movements. Bill was glaring at her. "_Don't touch him._"

"_Bill, he shouldn't even be here, remember? He's not even worth your time._"

"_And neither are you, Jill. Which is why I'm going to do this._" Bill concluded, beginning to glow a blackish hue.

Her eye widened. "_You wouldn-_" Her body was surrounded by a golden glow and she began to screech wildly.

Dipper covered his ears once more and squeezed his eyes shut. Voices, so many voices screeching, bouncing around in his head. The music was overwhelming, causing him to cry out. He choked on his cry and began to feel something warm and wet ooze from his ears. He didn't notice though, too consumed by the pain. He didn't even notice when the warmish wet ooze came from his nose as well. Stop. Oh god, stop. His head was going to explode. Stop. Stop, stop, STOP. HE WAS ABOUT TO EXPLOD- It was over as quick as it had begun. He opened his eyes, everything swimming before him. He couldn't view the glow of Jill anymore, or feel her tune, or even her presence. There was a golden glow reaching out to him though? It was all a blur, until hands were on either side of his face, image coming into view. Bill Cipher was staring intently at him, before he began speaking. "_You there, Pine Tree?_"

Dipper groaned in reply, stomach churning as the background behind Bill spun. "_Great, now what's your end of our deal, again?_ _Kid, hey kid, answer the_ _question._"

The 13-year-old whimpered and went to shut his eyes, but one of the hands smacked him on the cheek. He gasped, eyes widening. "_I said answer the question._"

"I-I need...n-need to...uhhh, trust G-Grunkle Stan...?"

"_Great, you remember! Ok, kid, looks as though Jill didn't damage you too bad. I'll fix that head of your's, so your brains don't leak out, and I guess your arm while I'm at it. Oh, and that arm of your uncle's, because that's another inconvenience to destiny's plans. Won't deal with Gideon though, since I won't be able to. He's been tainted by Jill's touch, so only she would be able to heal him. Looks like, he's going to have to heal the old-fashioned way, like most of you meat sticks do. Oh, and another thing; now that Jill has forfeited Gideon, they're no longer in a contract and that means all parts of their agreement have ended,_" Dipper barely understood anything he was saying, feeling too dazed. Bill rolled his eye. "_Alright, let's fix you up._"

The dream demon's hand began to glow black and Dipper felt something shift in his elbow and a irregular movement in his head. The warmth dripping out of his nose and ears vanished. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering to himself about blocking the pain out. The voices continued to echo inside him though and he still felt quite disoriented. A voice echoed above the others though "_You'll probably feel like that until you get used to your powers again, Pine Tree._"

His eyes snapped open and was revealed to be alone. He gazed around the darkened living room and touched his arm brace. He tenderly removed it, expecting a dulled throb, but it seemed to be completely healed. "Dipper?!"

The brunet looked up from his spot on the floor, to see Mabel standing there, eyes frantic appearing. Stan was beside her, with a unconscious Gideon in his arms, bridal style. "D-Did _you_ get rid of _her_, bro-bro?"

Jill Rephic had been with his family then. He didn't get rid of her, though he wasn't sure what to say due to Stan expecting an answer as well. He bobbed his head up and down, still appearing quite dazed. His great-uncle eyes him, before speaking to Mabel. "Mabel, we need to get outta here. Gideon ain't doing too hot right now."

"I-Is he alright?" Mabel asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

His great-uncle began to reply, but a single voice began to echo throughout his mind. A male booming, a gavel pounding on wood, murmuring in a crowed gallery. "_...you are here by sentenced to 120 years of prison for the crimes you have committed over your life time, including extensive child and spouse abus-_" The rest of the crimes were cut, as a voice began to call his name. He returned to his reality, Mabel grasping him by the shoulders, frantically shaking him. He blinked a couple of times, irritation growing at all of the shaking and the interruption of the sentencing. "Stop shaking me Mabel!"

Mabel immediately ceased doing so, though her hands remained on his shoulders. "Are you ok? You weren't answering an-"

"Grunkle Stan, did you call the police?" Dipper asked, above Mabel's voice.

The elder man shifted uncomfortably at the question, then looked down at the 10-year-old's body in his arms. "We should drop this kid off at the hospital."

Mabel released a gasp, removing her hands from him, and Dipper frowned at her. "M-Mrs. Gleeful!"

It abruptly struck Dipper as strange that she hadn't appeared to investigate all of the noise they made at this early hour. "...Grunkle Stan...where is Mrs. Gleeful?"

"Well..I...I actually don't know..." Stan trailed off, frowning as though it had just occurred to him.

Mabel fidgeted, avoiding eye contact. "...n-need to call 911..."

Dipper stared at her, aware that Mabel knew something. "Mabel...where's Mrs. Gleeful?"

Mabel's eyes flashed down the hall, then back to Dipper. "..."

Dipper closed his eyes, focusing, a voice screaming out in his head. He jerked back into reality, gasping and shivering. Stan was directly in front of him, calling his name, the brunet simply stared at the carpet, mumbling to his great-uncle. "...p-police...call...M-Mrs...G-Glee..." A hand tentatively tugged at his fingers, and he grasped at them, into a death grip, knowing them to be Mabel's. Her eyes were not meant to see such nightmares and his ears were not meant to hear such horror. "...Mabel..."

"...Dipper..." She choked out in reply. Their arms brushed against one another, heads leaning against one another. Their minds were in sync, echoes and visions surrounding them, unaware of Stan placing Gideon onto the couch and using a phone to call 911. They were unaware on the paramedics entering the household, checking over the unconscious 10-year-old, unaware of the flashing lights as the police arrived. Unaware of unknown deputies dragging, a semiconscious, Bud Gleeful away in handcuffs. Unaware of Sheriff Blubs, with an unusually serious appearance on his face, questioning Stan. Unaware of a a paramedic opening the bedroom door of Mr. and Mrs. Gleeful's room, and gasping in shock. Unaware of Gideon being loaded onto a stretcher, into the ambulance, being taken in, just in case there were issues the paramedics could not view. Unaware of Grunkle Stan leading the pair of them out, muttering about how what had happened to Mrs. Gleeful shouldn't probably seen by any of them. They had a glimpse of the women though, a stretcher with a body, a white cloth covering it up, blood oozing straight through. And, that was when Mabel returned.

"SHE'S DEAD! SHE'S DEAD!" Mabel screamed hysterically in the car, as Stan drove to the hospital. Stan was ignoring her, but Dipper could see the strained appearance on his face from the rear-view mirror.

Dipper had disconnected himself. He needed to. If he didn't he was afraid he would become as hysterical as Mabel. He didn't want to be the cause of Stan's strained face. He appeared to be an aged version of his own Dad, and he didn't want his Dad to stare at him in such a way, ever again. His Dad, his Mom, Grunkle Stan, none of them should ever have that stressed look. They deserved better. And, Dipper couldn't help himself, he would regret it later, but just couldn't help himself. He faced to his twin sister, and exploded. "WOULD YOU SHUT UP!"

Stan had jumped in his seat, and the vehicle swerved a bit, before he corrected himself. Mabel's mouth clamped shut automatically, tears rolling down her round cheeks. Dipper wasn't done though, he was far from it. "We get it! She's probably dead! She's dead and guess what: I DON'T CARE!"

The Stanley Mobile was silent, for a long moment, before Mabel softly replied. "...I hate you, Jason."

The vehicle lurched to a stop, Mabel and Dipper's seat belts groaning as they locked up. Stan turned around in his seat, giving them the angriest face they had ever witnessed. "Don't you ever say that to your brother, do you hear me?"

Mabel paled. "I-I-"

"And Dipper, don't ever speak to a girl like that," Dipper blinked at him, though he remained silent. "You two are heading home tomorrow."

Mabel began to cry in earnest. "Y-You can't!"

"Yeah, I can. You two are minors and I can send you back to your parents if I want to."

"B-But-"

"...I never wanted to be here in the first place." Dipper mumbled.

Stan glared at him. "Good, because you don't have to be here anymore."

"Good, the Mystery Shack is a stupid place anyways."

"Kid, shut up, you're pissing me off." Stan didn't bother to filter his language by this point.

"Did your brother piss you off?"

Stan's eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

"He left, because of you, didn't he?" Dipper knew it was low, it was beyond low. In his household, speaking of Stanley Pines was a taboo and his Dad only spoke of him once. The brunet was sure it was the same in Stan's presence. He knew it would piss of Stan, but he didn't expect what happened next.

His great-uncle reached over the backseat and backhanded him. Mabel released a gasp in between her sobs at the crisp smack that echoed in the Stanley Mobile. "You don't know shit, Jason."

Hearing Mabel speak his real name was one thing, as he had heard it before, but hearing Stan speak it was a different thing all together. And, on top of it, Stan had hit him across the face. Dipper released a bark of laughter and his voice wobbled as he spoke. "Y-You can take us home right now."

"Great, I can finally get you out of hair now." Stan informed him, turning back and driving once more.

Mabel had finally ceased her sobbing, though tears continued to streak down her face. Dipper's cheek stung, but he ignored it, in favor of staring out the window, taking in the beginnings of the sunrise. Sunrise. A sunrise seemed so trivial and it occurred to Dipper that the world would always continue on, even if his life went to hell. He began laughing at the though, finding the notion hilarious. He couldn't stop his giggling and he continued on until the hilarity of it passed. He continued on, even when Mabel questioned if he was alright. He continued on, even when Stan halted the car once more and told to stop laughing. He continued on, even when the tears began to roll down his cheek and the wheezing began. He continued on, even when Stan reached over the backseat and pulled him into a gentle bear hug. He continued on, even when Stan muttered his apologies and his reassured him that they could stay. He continued on, even when he began to hyperventilate and tremble. He continued on, straight through one of the worst panic attacks he had experienced.

_~!7-9-4-5-15-14/6-5-5-12-19/5-13-15-20-9-15-14!~_

She hadn't been dead. Joanna Gleeful was in critical condition though and that was all Grunkle Stan was told about her. Gideon had been unconscious since yesterday morning, yet he was injured. Bud Gleeful was still be interrogated by the police, though Dipper was quite sure he would get the punishment he deserved. He had nearly murdered his wife and abused his son. Dipper wasn't sure if 120 years of punishment was correct, but he had feeling the abuse wasn't the only thing Bud had been secretly been doing. The brunet laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, not responding when the attic door opened. "Brought you lunch, if you're feeling up to it, kid."

Dipper nodded, realizing he hadn't ate since before they went to the Gleeful residence. He hadn't been hungry and had ignored the guilt about how he worried Stan with refusing to eat. Stan sat on the edge of the bed, near his head. Dipper stared at the tray he held, avoiding at looking at Stan's face. There was a small bowl of a soup, a sandwich cut in half, and a cup accompanying it. "Uh, I made your favorite. You know, tomato soup, grilled cheese, and Crash soda."

The brunet sat up and leaned against the pillow behind his back. Stan set the tray onto his lap and observed as the boy picked up one half of his sandwich. He dipped it into the tomato soup and munched on it. "How, uh how you feeling?"

"Better." Dipper told him and took a sip of his cup of orange Crash.

Stan nodded. "Good...I spoke to your Mom this morning."

Dipper ceased his munching and stared at the elder man. "Told her I know about your anxiety and that you had a pretty bad panic attack. I didn't tell her why, but I told her you and your sister could still say here. If you're up to it, she wants to talk to you."

Dipper felt a homesickness well up inside him at the mention of his Mom. He nodded. Stan stood. "I'll get the phone."

A moment later, Stan returned, and plugged the rotary phone into the spot behind the dresser. He dialed the number and handed the phone to Dipper. His great-uncle left the room and he listened to the humming as the phone dialed his Mom. After a moment, the gentle voice of Ariel Pines answer. "Hello?"

"Mom?"

"Dipper? Are you alright, sweetie?"

Dipper swallowed thickly at her concern. "Yeah."

"Stan told me that he knows."

"Yeah, he does."

"Is he treating you alright?"

"Yeah, he made me stay in bed all day yesterday."

"Just stay there until you feel up to getting up, alright?'

"Ok, Mom."

"Other than your little issue, how has your summer been? I haven't spoken to you or Mabel in about two weeks."

"Good...I made friends with a girl."

"A girl? Is she pretty?"

Dipper felt his face heat up. "I shouldn't of said anything."

Ariel laughed. "I'm just wanna know who you're interested in right now, sweetie."

"Well...uh, s-she's blonde...and has green eyes..."

"Ohhh, she sounds pretty. Are you thinking about asking her out on a date."

Dipper blushed deeply. "N-No! Uh, uh, how's Dad?"

"Oh, same old, same old. Now, about that gir-"

"Do you want to talk to Grunkle Stan?"

"I guess we're done. For now. I better hear more about this girl later. But, yes I would like to talk to Stan."

Dipper set down the phone and raised his voice a bit. "Grunkle Stan?"

He was right in thinking that Stan would be out in the hall, as he entered merely a moment later. "What?"

"She wants to talk to you."

"Start eating," Stan told him as he took the phone. "Ariel? Yeah, he's doing alright."

The brunet dipped his a spoon into the soup and began to sip it. Dipper ceased doing so, when he spotted Mabel peeking into the room. She gave him a hesitant face and he gave her a tiny smile. She tentatively smiled back and entered into the attic, approaching his bed. "Hi."

"Hi." Dipper replied.

"...you feeling better?"

"Yeah. I was just eating lunch."

Mabel giggled as she studied his sandwich. "You made him cut off your crusts?"

Dipper blushed a bit. "I've never liked crusts."

Mabel grinned, though her face fell. "...I don't hate you and I'm sorry I said that."

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to yell at you."

Mabel beamed and then whispered to him. "I love you, Dipping Sauce."

Dipper gave her a tiny smile. "I love you, too."

"Ok...yeah...you too, bye," Stan concluded, hanging up the phone. "You two make up?"

The twins gave each other a look and then nodded at Stan. "Great, now finish your lunch, so we can watch that movie with the guy in tights and the shield."

Dipper raised a eyebrow. "You mean Captain America?"

"Yeah him and his buddy, uh the Summer Agent."

Mabel giggled. "You mean the Winter Solider?"

"...shut up."

The twins burst out laughing as Stan left and slammed the door behind him.

End Chapter 12

**I'm not sure who you are Guest, but you got it right! Yes, the letters of the alphabet match up with numbers! 1= A, 2= B, 3= C, etc. Thanks for figuring it out and here's your virtual cookie! *Gives cookie* I hope you like chocolate chip! Anyways, I've been a bit stressed out lately, due to how busy I've been and writing the whole resting up bit of this chapter actually made me feel relaxed.** **As always, thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! **


	14. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

After the Mystery Shack had been closed from the public for a total of two days straight, Stan finally decided to re-open it, deeming the time for mental healing to be over. Upon entering the twin's room though, Mabel had firmly insisted on Dipper waking on his own. Stan agreed, simply because he still felt guilt about hitting the kid. Yesterday, Dipper had assured him that he didn't have any hard feelings on the matter. Neither had mentioned Stanley Pines though. The elder man had called his employees two days back, letting them know that Shack would be closed for a few days, his excuse being he wasn't feel too hot. He decided to call them up though, informing them to come in today. Much to his surprise, Wendy showed up first, before work for once, and began to rattle off on an apology for finding out about Dipper's anxiety, but Stan cut her off. "Corduroy, as long as you don't judge the kid, I don't care if you found out squat. Just make sure he knows you aren't freaked out about it or anything though."

"I would never be freaked out about it, Mr. Pines!"

"Good." Stan rolled his eyes at her passionate tone.

Wendy seemed convinced that she was on good terms with him and moved on. "Are you still sick though, Stan?"

"What a-Oh, no, I just had the summer flu. Past two days were a bit ruff, but I feel fine now."

She squinted her eyes. "...doesn't the flu take a few weeks to go away?"

"...Nonspecific excuse on why I'm leaving." Stan told her, before turning to head to his office.

Soon after though, Soos burst into his room, crying. "Please don't die, Mr. Pines!"

Stan stared at him as if he had confessed his love. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Your flu!"

Oh. Stan could see, considering his age, how concerned about him becoming sick. The elderly man thought that Soos would know he's tougher than that by now though. He rolled his eyes. "Clam down, will you? I ain't dying."

Soos ceased crying and blinked a couple of times. "You aren't?"

"Do I look like it?" Soos blinked at him. Stan sighed. "No, I'm not."

Soos sprinted around the desk Stan was at and wrapped his thick arms around his shoulders. The elder man cringed away from the contact, feeling as if his personal bubble had been invaded. He didn't pull away though, knowing Soos needed to be reassured. After about five minutes of this awkward hug though, Stan decided to push him away. "Ok, ok, enough with the hugging! Off! I'm alright!"

On the surface, everything seemed to becoming normal once more, but there was tension in certain situations. When Dipper came down from his room, he froze when observing Wendy perusing through a magazine at the cash register. She glanced up at him and presented him with a grin. His nerves slackened, though felt confused. Didn't she think he was annoying? It wouldn't be the first time someone had thought that very notion thanks to his agonizing anxiety. She waved him over though and he tentatively approached the counter. "You and Mabel ok now?"

"Uh, y-yeah. We aren't fighting anymore..."

"Good. I think we need to be ok now though, too. I'm gonna start by saying, I don't care if you have anxiety or not, you're still one of the coolest kids I've like ever met."

Dipper gulped thickly, overcome with emotion, not expecting her to tell him this. "Thanks."

"We good now?"

Dipper nodded and her grin increased. "Now, how about me and you head up to the roof?"

_~!5-22-9-12/9-19/1/6-18-1-13-5/15-6/13-9-14-4-!~_

Mabel's vision was wavering as her eyes filled with tears. She hurriedly wiped at them and her bottom lip protruded. She was wracked with anxious feelings for her grandfather. He had not answering her calls from any reflective surfaces throughout the Shack and was beginning to believe something had happened to him. Or, perhaps he had grew resentful for her not fulfilling her promise yet of convincing Stan that his brother was enclosed in a dimension between their own and another universe? She shook those thoughts off and continued to whisper his name to the reflective surface of the vending machine. Mabel was becoming quite stressed about all that was going on, especially feeling this angsty need to go check on Gideon on the hospital and the nagging whisper in her mind confirming that Jill Rephic would be back. She kicked the vending machine, but nearly had a heart attack when Wendy spoke from behind. "What that vending machine do now?"

She turned to the register and observed the redhead causally flipping through her magazine. Mabel approached the counter with glum appearance. "Uh, nothing...just stole my money..."

"Well, you look sorta freaked out. Is there anything else it did?"

"No...I'm, just, feeling sorta upset right now..."

"Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Well...me and Dipper met someone that we really don't like and she's gone for now, but I sorta have this feeling that she'll be back soon? And then, we found out someone we know was being...hurt by someone else and that they knew her."

"Wait, so like she was being hurt by someone that's gone and doesn't like her?"

"No, urgh!" Mabel cried out, before flopping over onto the rug in front of the register.

Wendy leaned over the counter. "Sorry, your story is a little confusing...hey, Mabel?"

"What?" She mumbled, face squashed into the floor.

"Dipper's book, the one he always carries around, isn't it red and has like a hand on the front?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I found it. In my room. Under my bed. I was getting rid of some stuff yesterday and I found it there."

Mabel gazed up, perplexed look on her face. "Wendy, Dipper has his in his room. He was looking at it last night...Wait, what number is on it?"

"Number? Wait, there's more than one?"

"There's three."

"Really? Oh, well the one in my room has a one on it."

Mabel jumped up. "That's the one Gideon had! We thought it went missing!"

"You mean that little creep ha-"

Mabel leaned over the counter, interrupting her. "He isn't a creep, Wendy."

She raised an eyebrow. "I though you didn't like him?"

Mabel jaw clenched, appearing slightly agitated. "Well, I changed my mind."

Wendy frowned, sensing the 13-year-old had changed a bit. "And why is that?"

"I just did, but that journal, can you go get it?"

Well, they were done with that. "Well, Stan will probably bite my head off, but I'm sorta hungry, so eh, why not? I'll be back in about an hour. Can you cover the register for me?"

Mabel nodded. "Thanks, man."

Stan came by, not five minutes later, and frowned at Mabel, who was staring intently at the jar of eyes on the counter, muttering to herself. "Where's Wendy?"

"Lunch." Mabel answering, not removing her eyes.

Stan's frown deepened. "Her lunch isn't for another two hours! Freaking teenagers these days...unreliable..."

When Wendy returned later, she had in hand a soda and, in the other, one of the journals. Mabel snatched it from her with such fever, that Wendy thought it was Dipper before her and not his sister. "It was under your bed? Woah, do you think it got there by like magic?!"

Yep, not Dipper. "I don't know dude, but don't you think we should show Dipper? He went to watch TV, after we came down from the roof."

Mabel bit her lip. Her twin had recently suffered one of his worse panic attacks and felt it unnecessary to stress him out any more with the knowledge that someone placed this under Wendy's bed. She hugged the journal to her chest. "I...I don't think he needs to know."

"Uh, why?"

"Wellllll...he sorta had a panic attack and I don't wanna stress him out?"

"Wait, when?"

"Ummm...a day ago..."

"...Stan wasn't sick, was he?"

Mabel shook her head and Wendy's eyebrows furrowed together. "Wait, was it bad?"

The brunette gazed away, avoiding the question. "Mabel, how bad are we talking?"

"He sorta...maybe...passed out?"

"WHAT?!"

"It's ok, it happens sometimes, don't freak out!"

"What do you mean don't freak out! Like, what happened? Did he like hyperventilate?!"

"Yeah, that's kinda what happens when he has his full blown ones. He's really ok though, he just gets really tired and has to rest. He's ok now though, I mean you were with him earlier and didn't he seem ok?"

Wendy seemed to deflate a bit. "Yeah...Sorry, it's just now that I know he has anxiety, I feel worried about him."

The brunette gulped, realizing how true this statement was. "Yeah...um, anyways, can we keep this a secret, Wendy?"

Wendy hesitated, then released a sigh. "Ok, as long as we do tell him, before the end of the summer, ok?"

She could do that. "Ok, I'm gonna find somewhere to look at this..."

Mabel left, flipping through the journal, as the redhead called after her. "Just don't get too obsessive with it, like Dipper does!"

_~!-?-!~_

Pacifica Elise Northwest intently observed the maroon journal laid out before her, on the silk-sheeted bed. She was lying on her bed, attempting to figure out how in the world Dipper's journal had found it's way under her pillow. Last night, when tucking herself into bed, she felt a lump beneath her head and discovered it there. She recognized it immediately, recalling vividly the night Dipper saved her family and guests attending the party. Except, it had a 2 on it, instead of a 3, as she knew it to have. Pacifica wasn't all that confident that it was Dipper's now and that made her a bit nervous about the idea how it had arrived here in the first place. She had been itching to open it, but had no courage to do so, instead staring at it as though it would verbally tell her all the answers she needed. "Where did you come from...?"

"PACIFICA! PACIFICA ELISE!" Her father bellowed from downstairs.

The blonde cringed at the demanding tone. Ever since that night, her father no longer sent a butler to fetch her, but screamed and hollered, if he required her presence. Her mother and him were becoming quite aggressive as of late, causing her fear of them to increase. Yes, they paid attention more to her now, but not in the way she had so desired for. She sighed, tucked the journal back under her pillow, and hesitatingly headed downstairs to the library. Preston Northwest, adjourned in his business suit, sat at an ancient, mahogany wood table. Pacifica gulped, before addressing him. "Yes, Father?"

He gazed up, eyes boring into her own, before gesturing to the book before him. "Pacifica, do you know what this is?"

"Uhhh, a book?"

"Of course it's a book, foolish child."

She cringed. He had been calling her names as well, ever since the incident. "Ummm, a book full of importance?"

Preston rolled his eyes, muttering about how idiotic his daughter had become. "This book, was one my great-grandmother followed when raising my grandmother."

She didn't like where this was going. "And, do you know what this book says to do to unruly children?"

Her palms began to grow sweaty. "N-No, father."

Preston looked his daughter dead in the eye and what he said next made Pacifica realize in that moment, was that her Father didn't actually love her. "Send them away."

_~!-?-!~_

Robbie Stacey Valentino hadn't felt as pissed as he did at the moment, in what like, forever. He growled and mumbled to himself. Tambry and him had been absolutely head over heels in love. Robbie hadn't laughed with such exuberance in years and he knew he had his girlfriend to thank. Lately though, they had become both snappy at one another and were acting as though they didn't enjoy one another's company. It was as though a spell cast upon them was fading, returning them to their original hate. He kicked his bed in frustration, then howled in pain. He began to hop up and down, grasping at his foot. A cheerful feminine voice from beyond his door interrupted. "Dear, are you having another meltdown?"

"Leave me alone, Mom!"

"Well, when you're done throwing a fit, you can come downstairs and have your lunch."

"Aughhh!" He heard his mom leave and he flopped over onto his bed. "I hate this town!"

He rolled onto his back and heard a crinkle. He frowned. Did he leave some sheet music in his bed? Or his summer homework? He readjusted his comforter, revealing a crisply folded up paper with his full name written across it. He ripped it, expecting a letter, but instead there was only a phone number and a time, which was nearly five minutes from now. "What the hell is this?"

He flipped it over, but there appeared to be nothing more. He hadn't a clue why, but the teenager felt as though someone was observing him read it. He glanced around and startled at the knocking at his door. "Robert, are you done having one of your teenage mood swings yet?"

"I'm not having a mood swing, Mom!" He hollered back, rolling his eyes. "I'll be down in a minute! And it's Robbie!"

Robbie located his cell phone and stared at the time. 1:23 PM. Two more minutes until the time. He punched in the number and his thumb hovered over the "**CALL**" button. He was hesitant on following the instructions of an unknown recipient. 1:24 PM. His curiosity overcame him and pressed "**CALL**", right as the time changed to 1:25 PM. It rang a few times, before... "G-Grandpa Stanley, is t-that you?! I-I'm sorry that I ha-"

"Wait, Mabel?"

"...Robbie?"

"Uh, yeah. Wait, who did you think you were talking to?"

"Uhhhh, no one...How do you know my uncle's number?"

"Umm, I found a letter with your number in my room?"

"What?"

"It had my name on it a-"

"In cursive?"

"Yeah, wait how did you know that?"

"Me and Dipper got one, too."

"From who?"

"We don't really know...why would you be given my Grunkle Stan's number?"

"I don't know, but my letter said to call here aro-"

"Robert! Your food is getting cold!" His mother shouted from downstairs.

He groaned. "Hey, I need to go to lunch an-"

"That's ok, I need to look at uh...something...Bye-bye, Robbie!"

He cringed at the loud tone. "Uh, bye?"

He pressed "**END**" and stared at the flashing word, before it faded before his burning eyes. He pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, feeling a dreaded beginnings of a migraine. Robbie had actually gotten those since a young age, typically curling under his blankets, praying for the pain to fade. No lunch. He couldn't. The teenager snuggled into his dark comforter, relishing in the softness. There was a knock at his door and he cringed at the sound. The door opened after a moment and his mother stepped in. "Robert, we can't eat lunch without you down here, can we?"

"...migraine..."

His mother's face became sympathetic and she flashed his room's light off, much to his relief. He felt the end of his bed dip, as she settled down onto it. Her hand began to stroke his hair and he hummed at the comfort. This was the only time he wouldn't attempt to avoid his parents, being in such an amount of pain not to actually do so. "Did you take your medication this morning?"

He hummed in reply to her whispering. "Alright, if you're feeling hungry later on, your lunch will be in the fridge."

When she left, Robbie couldn't help but feel as though she wasn't in as great as a mood as she appeared to be.

_~!-?-!~_

Bill Cipher materialized, in a flash of golden luminance, in the basement of the Mystery Shack. The hum of the portal echoed throughout the unoccupied, confined space and the dream demon gazed thoughtfully into it. The glowing white, mingled with a hue of Jill Rephic, suggesting her taint to the area. This was not on the mind of Bill at the the moment though. Notions of destiny were. "_The rest of the pieces are falling into place..._"

A reflective wall presented the image of a pensive Stanley Pines Jr. He could hear the voice of him echoing into this universe. "Cipher...you..."

"_You should worry about Jill Rephic, not me, Fingers...she has altered the wheel of density, which is a big no-no...and now I've had to do the same_!" Bill seethed, golden hue becoming a vicious maroon.

"...what...mean...?"

Bill's golden hue returned at the question and his tone mellowed. "_Those that shouldn't be on my wheel, have shown up...Pine Tree...Gideon...Icy...and those that should of been there are missing...Red is dead, Eye, he was defeated by part of the wheel, and Daisy, Crescent's woman..._"

Stanley squeezed his eyes shut, pained appearance overcoming him at the mention of these names, while Bill directed his gaze back to the glowing portal. "_...the only other time this has happened...everyone on the wheel died..._"

And in a different plane of the universe entirely, a dream demon howled her vengeance against Bill Cipher's wheel.

_Chapter 13 End_

**I was honestly planning on updating last week, but didn't like how the chapter ended up, so I decided to rewrite the entire chapter. I'm truly sorry for the wait. So many followers though! Thank you all so much for your support and patience for this story!The next update could possibly be this Saturday, since I don't have work then, so see you all then.  
**


	15. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper vacantly stared beyond the TV, thoughts consumed with events of the past few days. His mind was such a jumbled mess that, he knew that he had to sort things out, before his anxiety overwhelmed his senses. Jill Rephic and Bill Cipher. Both were demons, though Dipper wasn't as frightened over Jill, as he was with Bill. She merely seemed possessive, while on the other hand, the triangle seemed out to turn his life into a living hell. Mabel though, she would laugh in the very pretense of Bill Cipher, while stumble frantically over the name of the star. This wasn't turning out all that well for them. He was agitated from his thoughts as the house phone rang and he removed himself from the reclining chair, intending on answering. The ringing ceased though, so Dipper flopped back down onto the seat, assuming someone had already answered.

The other issue was that Mabel and he were in now in contracts with a demon. At the time it seemed reasonable, though he was still petrified of him, but now he felt like such a fool. He rubbed his eyes, remembering how Bill was in his body last time. The sensation of being removed from flesh, the state his soul was in, the distant sting each time his body was injured. The fear of never recovering his body and for his beloved ones being assaulted. Dipper was such a fool...such a fool...He startled awake and found himself surrounded by pitch black. Dipper waited for his eyes to adjust, but it was as though he was in a dark room used for photographers. He went to stand, but realized he already was. The reclining chair was gone, as though it had never existed. "Uhhh...h-hello?"

He voice echoed endlessly around him. Dipper broke out into a cold sweat, recalling an incident such as this in the 1st grade. On the first day of school, they had been in the middle of coloring time, when it happened. He suddenly didn't have his red crayon and the page with the apple he was coloring was missing. His seat, everything, and everyone within the classroom had vanished. Dipper didn't like the dark as a kid, fearing what could possibly hide in it. He screamed and hollered for hours. He was in the dark for so long until...until...the voice spoke...it cooed his name, feminine and sickeningly sweet. Dipper began to breathe heavily at the memory. That voice. Staircases. Staircases. He couldn't go down any for a year. He couldn't go down until he visited Gravity Falls. His legs would lock up and he would be paralyzed. The only way they could get him up them was through the elevator. The hospital employees would try to get him over the fear, but he would burst into tears, pleading for them not to make him. The doctor would finally give up for the day and allow him in the elevator. For a year, each day, he couldn't take the stairs. The stairs were where..._she_ was. That voice.

The brunet didn't realize until that moment, but he was hyperventilating. He couldn't breath. He couldn't. His lungs ached. How long had he already been here? It only felt as though it was minutes, yet his choking indicated longer. God, he couldn't do it. He couldn't breathe. The last time he woke, Dipper had finished having a seizure in the middle of the classroom, the teacher squatted near him, though giving him space by pushing the table away, and his classmates staring wide eyed behind him. He had wet himself. That was the start of everyone avoiding him like the plague. They would point and whisper how weird he was. His sister spoke about seeing dead things, while he had strange habits and would cry easily. It was a nightmare. No. This was the nightmare. Stuck, in the darkness, screaming at the top of lungs, unable to breath. No other sounds. There was a sound though. His screaming and choking abruptly ended and he listened. "_Stanford, why do you have to do this? Stop messing with it. It shouldn't ever be opened, again. Cipher is going to hurt you! Please, Mabel was supposed to tell you...ah, dammit...They're back...Need to find Dad's guns..._"

Grandpa Stanley? His voice was clear as glass, as if he was directly in front of Dipper. ? Stanford? Grunkle Stan needed to stop? Again, more hints to the fact that he was up to something. And who was Stanley talking about? Who was back? He could breath now. He could breath. His breath came out in heaves and the living room melted back into view.

His hands clenched at the arm rests and he panted wildly. He was drenched in his own sweat and was choking on sobs. Dipper went to pull himself from the chair, but couldn't, he felt too weak. He was now sobbing loudly and had to cover his mouth with one of his hands to stifle it. He was 13-years-old and couldn't cease his blubbering. He finally found the strength to remove himself from the seat much to his relief. Dipper observed the ticking on the owl clock. He grimaced at the time, realizing over three hours had passed. No one had found him in that state. He felt a loneliness well up inside at the though, but shook it off. They must of been busy with the tours and running the shop.

The brunet glanced down at his clothes, sweat stained across his shirt and shorts. He frowned, embarrassed about how visible the stains were on the light colors he wore. Why the heck did he wear tan shorts in the first place? He looked like a little kid. And his stupid shirt was too distracting. He needed to change his clothes. He headed upstairs, keeping an eye out for Mabel, concerned of what she would think when she witnessed the stains or the irritated eyes, though he was unaware himself how red they were. He never ran into her though and he began to pursue through his drawer of clothes. Dipper selected the forest green shirt he had wore the other day and a pair of dark grey pants (his Mom insisted on him bringing pants, just in case it grew cold at night) from his drawer. He realized his vest was missing and the life of him couldn't recall when or where he had taken it off. The brunet felt his eyes well with tears and wiped them away, embarrassed by this unfounded near spell of crying. God, he was such a baby, crying over a piece of clothing.

Dipper left the attic, unaware of Stanley appearing in the reflection of the window, apprehensively overlooking the front yard, shotgun in hand.

_~!14-5-22-5-18/4-15-21-2-12-5-3-18-15-19-19/1/4-5-13-15-14!~_

Mabel had either been calling for Grandpa Stanley or reading the journal for the past three hours. She was laid out across the couch of Soos's room, not uncovering many answers, though learning quite a lot about the supernatural. She had never bothered to read Dipper's journal, but now she wanted to do so in depth. It was honestly captivating, though she still would prefer watching cat videos on Utube. To think though that she used to always attempt to get her twin's head out of the book! Dipper always seemed to have a fetish with the supernatural and Mabel supposed in a way she unknowingly did as well. At the moment, she was reading about banshees and how they seemed to occupy the deepest parts of the woods. The author had gone for a day long hike with his colleagues and arrived in the area around twilight. They were quite vicious and screeched until their ears began to bleed. This book seemed the most violent out of all of them, the author describing in detail the disturbing creatures that had been discovered. Mabel had seen Dipper shudder a couple of times when reading the journal and wondered if he read these sort of things. Mabel didn't shudder though, but stared intently at it, nearly consumed. She blinked and everything became saturated.

She jolted violently, expecting Jill Rephic, yet Bill Cipher was there instead. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, shielding the journal from the dream demon as he floated closer. "What?"

"_You really like the book, huh?_" Bill Cipher sang merrily as he adjusted his bow. Mabel had become nearly as cautious as her brother, beginning to understand how untrustworthy people and the supernatural could be. The demon seemed to notice her cautiousness. "_When did you get so serious, Shooting Star?_"

"When I realized how dangerous people are."

"_Oh? What could of possibly gave that away?_"

"When Jill Rephic decided she could keep me."

Bill's merriment faded the moment she finished her sentence. "_I wouldn't let her._"

"...I don't get you."

"_No one does._"

She ignored that. "You threaten my friends and my brother and my uncle, but now you act like you want to help us."

"_Maybe I do, kid._"

"Why?"

"..._Well, Jill's broken some universal rules._"

"Rules? What rules?"

"_Just some rules us demons have._"

She frowned, skeptical. "You have rules about what you can and can't do?"

"_Pretty much._"

Mabel squinted her eyes. "You're a liar."

"_Geez kid, you're nearly as paranoid as your brother. Believe what you will, but if we do break rules, we do get punished._.._You know, you're my favorite,_" Mabel gave him a startled look. A chuckle echoed throughout the room at the look. "_You're my favorite, because you have so much potential...and you're a_..._fake._"

"...What?"

"_A fake, Shooting Star._"

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"_You aren't what you seem to be. All those giggles and smiles are a cover._"

"...Dipper's right; you are crazy." Mabel told him straight faced.

Bill chuckled at this. "_Crazy is matter of the MIND._"

"Wait, what?"

"_You and Pine Tree say that wayyyyy too much. You two should learn a new catchphrase._"

She averted her eyes with a scowl. "...Leave me alone."

Bill rolled his eye. "_Do you think anyone ever saying that has actually made me go away? And, you're avoiding the topic, kid._"

"Laughing is fun and there's nothing wrong with that!" Mabel gave him a pouty face, that gave her an air of innocence.

"_There you go again, acting all innocent to avoid the topic!_"

Mabel dropped the face and clenched her jaw. "I'm _not_ acting."

"_Denial isn't flattering on anyone._"

"What do you want from me?"

"_Ahhhh, finally asking the questions, are we? I just swung by ask where you found Gideon's journal._"

Her knees tightened and she wrapped her arms tighter around them, protecting the journal. "...was it you?"

"_Pardon me?_" Bill asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"Was it you that moved the book?" Bill didn't reply and the answer occurred to Mabel. "You didn't move it."

"_Where did you find it, kid?_"

"My frien-"

"_Question Mark or Icy?_" Mabel blinked and Bill rolled his eye. "_The fat one or the redhead?_"

"Wendy, found it."

Bill crossed his arms and hummed to himself. His pupil turned into the hands of a clock, ticking away. "_I believe that another party is involved. Everyone on my wheel either can't or wouldn't do this._"

"What does that mean? You always talk about that wheel thingy."

"_Why do you use a cover?_"

"...I'm leaving now." Mabel uncurled herself at this, but continued to clench the journal tightly to her chest as she stood.

"_Woah, woah! Hold on there! We're not finished yet!_" Bill exclaimed, waving his hand at her, and she was thrust back onto the couch. Mabel opened her mouth to reply, but it transformed into a zipper, and zipped itself shut. One of her hands flew to her mouth and she made a surprised humming noise at him. "_I'm gonna_ _talk now, kid. Listen, you're in denial. Deep down, I know you know that you're using a cover._"

Her jaw clenched. "_You're ashamed...no frightened, about the judgement of humanity. You've done one or two unnatural things in your day._"

Mabel's jaw ached a bit, as it tightened further."_Yeah, I've seen you do quite a few near murderous things. Like climbing that tree and pushing that lunch thieving girl out of it in the kindergarten. She broke her leg thanks to you! Or when that little runt kept mocking your brother and you put the janitor's cleaner in his milk in the 1st grade? Ha! He was in the hospital for four months after that! Or, or how about when you beat that boy with a branch just because he wouldn't stop calling you a liar about seeing dead people in the 2nd grade! He was too frightened to tell anyone the truth and lied to everyone about how he fell from the top of a tree. Were you furious when you were finally suppressed soon after? Suppressed after you were finally caught? No, maybe a bit mad, but not furious. Shooting Star, I wanna see you become furious._"

Mabel's teeth were so pressured from the clenching, that the nerves in her gums stung. "_You know, pushing that kid in front of the bus in the 3rd grade, that was probably the best. And I can completely see why you did! He was probably the most obnoxious human I've seen. Though, Napoleon was a hard human to beat when it comes to that. He used to go off on his little tangents, in that high squeaky voice, just when I didn't obey him. That's a story for another time though. God, you should be lucky though, that you were only 9-years-old, and everyone though it was an accident. Though the principal seeing you doing it on purpose, not so good. You should be lucky he only called your parents and told them you had to leave the school. The kid couldn't even remember that you did it, thanks to his concussion. In the 3rd grade, you nearly and intentionally committed murder!_"

Mabel's was clenching the journal, taking deep breathes through her nose, trembling violently. "_It was around then, that you finally began to use a cover on your family. They were worried for awhile there, but you stopped causing trouble. Until...until Dipper fell down the stairs._"

The brunette lunged forward, releasing the book, and her voice exploded as the zipper broke. "SHUT UP!"

She expected the contact with the triangle, yes, but not the echoing noise that followed. The noise rang throughout the room, rattling her teeth, as if she was directly inside a bell tower. She landed upon her stomach, face slamming into the floor. The brunette was panting, staring wildly up at Bill Cipher. He continued to float before her, but his golden glow was flashing on and off. The deep dent bellow his bow surprised her, as did the black blood leaking from his eye. She pulled herself up, staring in shock at the damage inflicted upon the dream demon. "I...I..."

Mabel could find no words at the horror she felt towards herself. The damage she had created upon a dream demon. And the blood. The demon didn't seem that affected or angry by it though. Bill simply observed her, before uttering a sentence that horrified her to no end. "_If you're not careful, Mabel Kristen Pines, you may actually kill someday._"

She startled at the use of her true name, instead of a nickname, and gaped as he vanished in a flash of golden light, world returning it's color.

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper arrived on the first floor and nearly had a heart attack, when he bumped directly into Stan. "OHmyGOD!"

Stan raised an eyebrow at the crack in his great-nephew's voice and the blush that followed. The elder man decided not to comment on it though, finding it more necessary to speak about something else. "Where's your sister?"

"Um, I-I don't know." Dipper replied, blush receding when his great-uncle didn't mock him.

"Well, find her."

"Uh, why?"

"The three of us are gonna have a talk."

Dipper felt a twinge of dismay. This was exactly what he had been fearing for two days now. The talk. Stan wanted to know everything they did and what they were up to. "Um, Grunkle Stan, m-mayb-"

"Kid, you can't talk yourself outta this. Go find your sister. I'll be waiting in the dining room." Stan told him, leaving the room.

That was the no arguing voice. He sighed and headed to the attic, in search of his rambunctious sister. She wasn't there though, much to his puzzlement. He frowned and peaked out the window. Nor was she outside either. Soos's room? He headed back downstairs and entered the previously hidden room. She was staring intently at the mirror of the wardrobe. From where he was, he could view what appeared to be tense appearance, unlike what he had ever seen on his sister's face. He stepped in, uncertainly. "M-Mabel?"

Her eyes observed him in the reflection of the mirror for a moment, before the serious expression melted into her typical exuberant one. Mabel whirled around and grinned at him. "Dipping Sauce?"

Dipper sighed, wondering why he was so uncertain on approaching her in the first place. "Uh, G-Grunkle Stan wants us to talk about..."

Mabel ceased her grinning and became apprehensive. "About...how we...made deals...?"

"I was thinking that, too..." Dipper agreed.

Mabel glanced back to the mirror. "Grandpa Stanley isn't showing up. I...I think something is wrong."

Dipper was still quite dubious that the man who claimed to be Stanley Pines was truly Stan's brother, especially since only Mabel could see him. Though, his timbre was fairly close to Stan's, Dipper knew he couldn't be too trustful, particularly after having Bill Cipher trick him and that bunker incident. Judging from what Mabel had told him though, it was unusual he hadn't shown up when she called for him. "Ummm, maybe he's busy?"

Mabel blinked in surprise. "...I...I don't think anyone else is there. He told me...he doesn't have much to do."

"Maybe he left the house where he is?"

Mabel frowned. "Dipper...I don't think...he..."

Dipper thought about what he heard earlier, but was unsure if she should tell her. She was distressed about this though, so he decide to proceed with doing so anyways. "Um, Mabel, I sort of...h-heard him say something about s-someone coming back?"

"Did he call you?"

"No, I-I just heard his voice earlier when I was...w-watching TV." There was no need to alarm Mabel by the fact that he had been stuck in some sort of trance for hours today.

"Someone is there? I didn't know that. He never said."

Dipper shrugged. No way would he inform her that he was searching for weapons against said person. "A-Anyways, if we don't go, Grunkle Stan is gonna get impatient."

Mabel nodded in agreement, glanced once at the mirror, and then proceeded to follow her brother. They entered through the living room and observed Stan sitting at the dining room table, still dressed in his Mr. Mystery outfit, even though the store had closed over half an hour ago. Stan stared at them, then waved them over. They approached uncertainly, but finally sat across from him. Dipper removed his hat and twisted it in his hands anxiously, while Mabel picked at some imaginary lint on her pastel, seashell patterned sweater. "Now, would you two explain exactly what's going on?"

Neither spoke as Stan narrowed his eyes at them. "How about you gremlins start from the beginning of how you two got involved with all of this?"

Mabel finally spoke first, realizing her twin wouldn't. "Um, well, Dipper found a book in the woods and he started telling me what was in it."

Dipper nodded. "A-And we started seeing some...things."

"Like the zombies?" Stan probed.

They nodded in unison, before Dipper continued on. "A-And Wendy and Soos told us about some of the t-things they had s-seen here."

Mabel spoke next. "And we kept finding things that were in the book and then...G-Gideon made Bill Cipher come."

"That wasn't a dream." Stan stated, staring at Dipper.

"N-No...you did s-see me in y-your head..."

"Gideon and Bill wanted the safe number for your deed, Grunkle Stan. We stopped them, but..."

"He still got the deed." The elder man concluded.

Mabel nodded. "But, we stopped him. But, then Dipper..."

Dipper didn't continue, so Mabel sighed and did instead. "He...made a deal with Bill..."

"You made a deal, too?" Stan ground out, appearing irked. Dipper nodded meekly. "You still in it?"

"T-The first o-one?"

Mabel cringed when Stan gave him an incredulous look. "The first one? The FIRST one? You mean to tell me this is your second?"

Dipper nodded, beginning to feel sweaty, observing the clenched jaw Stan held now. "And what happened in the first one?"

The brunet squeezed his hat, unable to speak any further. Thankfully, his sister did. "He had to give his body for the password to that laptop he had during my opera."

There was a moment of silence, as Dipper stared at his hands squeezing the hat in his lap. "Dipper, look at me. Look at me, NOW."

Dipper looked up immediately. "What the heck were you thinking?"

His voice sounded barely controlled and Dipper felt tears swell in his eyes. "I-I-"

"Why?!" Stan pounded the table and Dipper flinched.

The brunette interrupted. "Stop yelling! It was an accident!"

"What do you mean 'it was an accident'?! You have to agree to make a contract! Agreeing is no accident! And shouldn't you know better than that to make a deal with a demon in the first place!?" He screamed across the table.

"I-I'm s-so-"

"WHY?!"

"Stop yelling at him! You're scaring him!" Mabel cried out.

Stan opened his mouth to reprimand his grand-niece, but ceased doing so when he observed how Dipper trembled. He removed his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand, beginning to calm himself. "Jesus...you...could of did a lot of harm, kid."

"I-I know."

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel questioned, watching as he wearily hung his head.

"...What?"

"Are you ok?"

"Fine...just...just...A-A long time ago, a stupid person made a deal with a demon and his friends and family paid for it."

"Who...?" Dipper whispered hoarsely, though a small part of mind already whispered the answer.

"Me. I made a deal with Cipher. He was in my body for a week and...my...they paid the price." Stan concluded.

Dipper and Mabel gawked at him. "Y-You made a deal?"

Stan gazed up and glowered. "Yeah, isn't that just what I said, Dipper?"

Dipper cringed at his tone and Mabel appeared quite compassionate. "Oh, you poor, old..."

"W-Why?" Dipper questioned.

"Look, all I'm going to tell you two is that, I was young and stupid, apparently like you two are."

"Hey!" The twins cried in unison.

"But, this is really dangerous what you've two gotten yourselves pulled into and I would feel...better if I was told what your deals were."

Mabel and Dipper shared a knowing look, agreeing they shouldn't tell Stan, as they involved him in some way or form. "Grunkle Stan, we can't."

Stan clenched his jaw when Mabel spoke. "And why not?"

"We can't tell you either. I...I think we can tell you what Bill Cipher has to do for us though," Mabel gazed to Dipper for agreement, which he gave. "Bill had to tell me how to break Gideon's amulet, so I could break the contract with _h-her_."

"Ummm, he had to f-fix any d-damage from when he was i-inside my b-body..."

"...and he's already held up his end?"

They nodded in unison. "Are you sure?"

Dipper hadn't been seeing any triangles. Mabel already broke the deal between Gideon Gleeful and Jill Rephic thanks to Bill's instructions. They nodded unison and Stan released a sigh. "Ok, what you two have to do, is it in anyway dangerous? I'm taking care of you two this summer and I'm pretty sure your folks will want you two returned whole to them."

Mabel blinked, unsure what exactly she would have to do in order to rescue Stanley from that pocket dimension. Dipper fidgeted, unsure if his trust of Stan would be tested during an perilous event. Stanford Pines had already hidden the knowledge that he had been further involved with the supernatural than he originally let on. Mabel finally decided to speak on behalf of both of them. "We...We don't know..."

"...Ok, we're getting you two out of these contracts."

_Chapter 14 End_

**So, I wanted to inform you all, though it sound be quite obvious by now, this is meant to be an darker AU version of the cartoon, and slightly more realistic. Sorry if you don't appreciate the direction Mabel's character is being taken, but worry not, as her character will not go through too much of a major change. Now, if something were to happen to her brother though, well that's another story to keep in mind...(No, really, _this_ story won't change her personality too much, though Mabel will grow up a bit by the end of it).  
**


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper and Mabel nearly choked at the sentence. Dipper, for once, recovered first. "What?!"

"We're gonna get you two out of this. Cipher _will_ betray you, He tricked me, so I should know. And you should know by now, too, Dipper."

"Ummmm, Grunkle Stan...I...I don't want to." Mabel informed him anxiously.

Stan stared at her as though she told him she was getting married. "And why not? He's obviously dangerous, kid!"

"U-Um, Grunkle S-Stan, I have to agree w-with Mabel on this one." Dipper added, hesitantly.

"Look, I ain't gonna argue about this, kids."

"But, I...I want to do my side of the deal." Mabel continued.

"Why the heck wo-"

"I...I need to tell you something."

"...Mabel, what's going on?"

"I'm not completely sure about that, but...I know what happened to G-Grandpa Stanley."

Stan froze, turning his head away, adjusting his glasses. "...I don't wanna talk about this."

"Please."

Stan gazed back at her, eyes storming. "Mabel, one of your folks must of told you by now. He left the family back when your pops wa-"

"No, the truth!"

Dipper gulped as he observed the two. This was not a good idea. He himself could barely grasp this notion, still unsure if it truly was Stanley or an impostor. Stan seemed to be watching her attentively though, which appeared to be a good sign, despite his gruff face he presented. "...and, what do you think is the truth?"

"That...he's stuck."

"Stuck? Stuck where?"

"A...um, Wonderland?"

Stan's face hardened. "Mabe-"

Dipper facepalmed, before interrupting. "Grunkle Stan, he says he's stuck in-between this world and another one. Sorta like a-"

"Pocket dimension?" Asked Stan, with an eyebrow raised.

"Y-Yeah, how did yo-"

"Kid, I know a bit about this sort of stuff...wait, so you're saying, my brother is stuck in some sort of pocket dimension and he told you he needed help out?"

Mabel nodded eagerly, while Dipper blushed in humiliation at how ridiculous it appeared to be. "Alright, give me back the books."

The twins frowned and shared a look. "B-Books?"

"You know, the red ones with the hands on them. Give them back, I know you two were the ones that stole them."

"Uh, G-Grunkle Stan, the one book I lent to you, you gave it back, remember?" Dipper gulped painfully.

"Yeah, that's why I made some photocopies of it. Now, give back the other two."

"Wait, wh-"

Mabel gasped. "You had the other books!"

Dipper's eyes widened, while he snorted at Mabel. "Don't act too surprised kid, since you're the one that took them."

Mabel blinked. "...Grunkle Stan, Wendy found one in her room and you're saying they were stolen?"

"Wendy found one in her room?!" Dipper exclaimed and Mabel cringed.

"Whoopises?"

Dipper threw his hands up into the air. "'Whoopises'?! That's all you have to say?! How long have you been keeping this from me?!"

"I-It just happened today."

"Wait, so Corduroy stole my books?" Stan questioned, beginning to grow confused.

"No, Wendy said she found it under her bed and didn't know where it came from."

"Mabel, I can't believe you didn't tell me this!" Dipper told her, crossing his arms and gazing away.

"I-I just tho-"

"So, who stole my books?" Stan continued.

"We don't know!" Dipper shouted. "And there not your's, but the author's!"

"Who do you think helped out with them, kid?"

Dipper paused, then whipped his head back around. "Wait, what?"

"My brother wrote them and I wrote some side notes in red."

"STANLEY IS THE AUTHOR?!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Yes! Now, if you didn't steal them, how do you know about the portal?"

"What portal?" The twins asked in unison.

Stan paled at this. "...Portal? Did you two gremlins think I said that? I said, ummm, mortal. Mortal, as in human. How did you know about my very human brother?"

"No, you said portal, I heard you."

"...shut up, Dipper."

"You did say portal!" Mabel claimed.

"No, I didn't! You're hearing things!"

The brunette seemed to posses a far away look, covering her mouth with a hand, whispering in a awed voice. "...that's why he said to stop... he wanted you to stop using the portal..."

"What?" Stan asked, not hearing her.

"Grandpa Stanley, he told me to tell you to stop..." Mabel repeated, lost in awe.

"Kid, there's no way you've talked to him. He left the family a long time ago."

"No, I can prove it to you!"

Dipper touched her shoulder, no longer angry about her hiding the discovery of the first journal. "Mabel, he can't see or hear him, remember?"

"But, but..."

"I don't knowing what you're talking about and there is no portal!" Stan stubbornly concluded. And Mabel recalled the desperate appearance the first time she left her grandfather, the distant, sorrowful looks when they spoke. Mabel began to cry, cry for her trapped, and lonely grandfather. Dipper gave his sister an alarmed look and grasped her forearm. Stan's eyes widened at observing his grand-niece cry for the first time in his presence. "Mabel? Mabel, are you o-ok?"

"H-He's never getting out!" Mabel bawled to her twin.

"Mabel, it's ok, I don't think...n-never mind...Mabel, B-Bill did trick us...I don't t-think you were able to s-supposed to go t-through with the deal..."

Mabel threw his hand off her forearm, growing angry. "You don't even believe it is Grandpa Stanley!"

"N-No, of course I-I d-!"

"Stop lying!"

"...b-but, Mabel D-Dad sa-"

"Dad lied about Grunkle Stan, so why don't you think he lied about this, too?!"

"Ok, ok, what is going on now?" Stan asked, leaning forward.

Mabel gulped, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "N-Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I-It's no-"

"Kid, he's already said things to my face."

Mabel gave him a stunned look. "What?"

"What he's said to you, is probably a better version of what he's said to me."

Mabel choked on a sob. "H-He's not bad, j-"

"Now hold on there, I never said he was bad. Your pops is a good father and knows how to chose the perfect woman. Plus, the whole being smart thing helps. Your pops though, he ain't too fond of me. Heck, I'm not too fond of me, so if you're talking about him saying bad things about me, then I already know."

"But, w-why would he n-not like yo-"

"Kid, I laughed at your brother when a snake bit his arm. Why do you think he doesn't like me?"

"Oh." She mumbled, as though it explained everything.

Dipper grumbled about the pain and fear of near-death he experienced. Stan frowned and muttered to himself. "Then again, I knew it wasn't poisonous, since there's none of those in the area."

Dipper cried out at that. "Wait, you n-never told m-me! I thought I-I was d-dying!"

Stan continued on, as though his great-nephew hadn't spoken. "Well, there's another reason he probably doesn't like me. It's probably from that time I locked him in a closet since wouldn't stop calling me 'elderly'."

"You di-" Mabel and Dipper began in sync.

"Or when he complained about my cooking and made him make all the food for us, even though he didn't know how and kept burning himself. Or-Or, my favorite, ha, when I left him in the woods when he began screaming at me about how I need to change my criminally ways. Man, that kid was hilarious!"

The more they heard these stories, the more of an adult their Dad sounded at 17-years-old, and more of a child Stan sounded at 47-years-old. The twins couldn't help, but laugh aloud. Stan smiled as Mabel wiped her tears. "I thought you two could use a little humor. Though, I still don't understand how you convinced your pops to let you come."

"Um, Mom said she convinced him."

"That mother of your's, she's truly a saint, she is. Only she could convince anyone to let their kids stay the summer with an old fart, like me."

Mabel couldn't help it, she released another sloppily, tear-filled laugh. "I...I'm sorry."

"Kid, you shouldn't be apologizing. I think your brother should be."

Dipper gulped. "Mabel...I can't...it just seems sorta...I believe he is stuck, but I don't believe he's who he says he is."

"I'm agreeing with Dipper on this one, though I can't believe the pocket dimension theory, kiddo." Stan chimed in.

Dipper stared at him, remembering the words, warning him that Stan knew more than he let on. And the portal. What was the portal and why was Stan so adamant that it didn't exist? "What portal are you talking about though?"

"There is no p-"

"Grunkle Stan, my deal is...I have to save Grandpa Stanley. If you know something, please."

"...kid, my brother disappeared long ago. And, you don't have to do your end, unless he forces you. He forced himself into my body, even though I told him that I changed my mind."

Mabel made a grunt of frustration and flopped her face onto the table. "So, was that the whole story? Anything else you need to tell me?"

The brunet shook his head. "Alright, well, I'm gonna start making dinner, so scamper off, and I'll tell you the plan later."

Mabel stormed off and Dipper chased after her. "W-Where are you going?"

"To call for Grandpa Stanley, again."

"Mabel, if he isn't coming, then I don't think yo-"

Mabel whipped around in the middle of the hallway. "I won't stop trying to help him!"

Dipper sighed. "Mabel, he isn't responding though."

"Then you call him!"

"I already tried that though! He didn't answer!"

"Well, maybe we need help!"

"From who?"

"I don't know!" Mabel threw her hands into the air and then stalked off to Soos's room.

_~!19-8-5/9-19/2-1-3-11!~_

When the twins went down to breakfast the next day, Stan immediately folded up the newspaper he was reading and placed it in his lap. They frowned suspiciously at him, though Dipper was the only one to speak. "What's in there that you don't want us to see?"

"The stock market." Stan said, sipping his coffee, face a picture of calmness.

"I like reading about the stock market. Can I see?"

"No, this wasn't about the stock market, didn't mean to say that.? This is just old, boring weather."

"Grunkle Stan, we can always ask Wendy to bring in her house's newspaper." Mabel pipped in, going for the obvious approach.

Stan finally released a sigh. "Kids, you really don't need to know."

Dipper felt a twist in his gut. "W-What's going on?"

"Your anxiety is gon-"

"Forget my anxiety! What's going on?!"

He looked between the two of them, before finally placing the newspaper on the counter. Mabel took it, opened to the front page, and blinked in surprise at seeing the face of a grinning Bud Gleeful staring up at her. Dipper's eyes scanned the headline and he choked. "**BUD GLEEFUL REVEALED TO BE THE WIFE KILLER.**"

"M-Mrs. Gleeful i-" Dipper began.

"Just read the article." Stan told him, staring intently at his coffee.

The two read the article in their heads, beginning to feel fear rise up inside them. "**Bud Gleeful, local car business owner, and father of fake psychic Lil' Gideon, was arrested Monday night, for the near death of his current wife and near brutal beating of son. Cops report a helpful group of citizens ceased these activities and called them to the scene. Wife is reported to be in stable condition, though still unconscious, while child is unharmed, yet unconscious still as well. Upon integration and through the testings of DNA, it was revealed that Bud Gleeful was in fact born as Barney Grievous, whom reportedly murdered his first pregnant wife and her brother, then his second wife, and finally his third one, before going on the run, disappearing for over a decade. Grievous will be charged with first degree murder, with the family of first and third wives pressing charges against him. The state of Oregon will be pressing abuse charges, for his current family. Trial proceedings begin tomorrow.**"

Mabel covered her mouth with a trembling hand, while Dipper forgot to breath. Stan face appeared grim as he removed the newspaper from their hands. Mabel lurched from her seat, and sprinted out of the room. The sound of the front door door slamming echoed throughout the house. "Fudge! She better not be going to the hospital! I already told her no!"

Stan removed himself from his seat and went out the door, forgetting about his shocked grand-nephew. The 13-year-old wasn't even paying attention though, simply staring at the newspaper. The words of before echoed throughout his head...the imprisonment of 120 years...for his crimes...Dipper felt a shift within himself and a familiar feeling returned. Once thought to be thankfully lost, cured by the consoling of the doctors in the mental hospital, his catatonic personality was beginning to return.

He was there, again. In the hospital. His leg was still in a cast, head bandaged from his surgery, and the wrist was in a brace. The bruises on his body ached, though, the feeling was quite distant through his catatonic state. A doctor was speaking to him, attempting to soothe his traumatized soul. "_Jason, it's ok to_ _feel sad,_" Jason. He wasn't Dipper. He was never Dipper, not since the incident. He was Jason. He realized Jason had always been deep within him, the lonely soul within him. Sad? Sad, didn't even begin to describe the aching within him. "_It's ok to cry, too._" He didn't want to cry. He wanted to scream and curse everyone. A lone tear tracked itself down his face. He would merge with Dipper eventually and the ache would significantly reduce over the course of the year. Jason and Dipper were one, but Jason was bringing him down at the moment. "_Jason? Jason, how do_ _you feel about having medication?_"

When he took it, anger came deep from within. It could of been Jason, it could of been Dipper, maybe it was a bit of both, but he threw violent fits. Fling his metal lunch tray at the nurse's face. Bite them until they bled. Kick them in the shins. Two days later, he was taken off of it. They tried another. He scratched his own skin, until he bled. Another one, he began to hit the other patients. After the fourth, they stopped. He was angry about everything. It was either be angry or traumatized. They wanted him traumatized instead. Traumatized by the stairs. Traumatized by the voice. Traumatized by the knowledge that he was always going to be Jason Ritter Pines. "_Jason! Jason! Please, if you don't stop, we'll ha-_"

"Dipper? Oh, shit, Dipper!" A voice grumbled out in a panic. Dipper felt uncontrollable movement throughout his body. His limps were smacking into anything around him, head bashed backwards, head exploding in pain. "Shit!"

The items around him were moved and his limps and head freely smacked onto the ground instead, pain reduced somewhat. He couldn't see, everything was dark and, he felt panicked at the thought. Then, then, his movements stopped and he opened his eyes with a groan. A wrinkled hand patted his cheek. "Hey, hey kid, you alright? That's it, come on, open your eyes..."

The concerned face of Stan swam before his eyes and he cringed at the bright light beyond his great-uncle. He gradually became aware of the fact that he felt wet in the last place he wanted to be. He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. "S-Sorry...floor..."

"Hey, I ain't worried about that, I'm more worried by you have a freakin' seizure in the middle of the kitchen."

Seizure. He hadn't had one of those since a year ago when they first admitted him to the hospital. He had thrown up instead that time though, and Dipper wasn't sure which was worse. He gulped, throat dry and he closed his eyes. "S-Sorry..."

"Kid, I'm gonna call 911, so w-"

He kept his eyes closed, feeling strangely calm about the whole thing now. "No, no, they...can't do anything...just...my powers...or Jason...either make it happen...I guess..."

"What are you talking about? Look, you-"

"Powers...overwhelm head...sometimes...and me being Jason brings...remembering..."

"Uh, you are Jason, kid."

"I know...other me is sad though... Dipper isn't as sad..."

"I have no idea what you're saying."

"How...long w-was it?"

"I have no idea, I came back in and found you in the middle of it. I was gone about a minute or two though."

"Five minutes...is when you call 911...it's ok...no hospitals...tired..."

"Ok, ok, fine, go to sleep...we'll go find your sister later..." The voice swam away from his senses.

_~!-?-!~_

Vibrant chocolate eyes beamed into the exhausted, sky blue ones. She had gained access easily to his room, when a doctor had recognized her to be her brother's twin and allowed her access to the room. Dr. Thompson thought it wouldn't make much of a difference, considering how mute their patient had been since waking yesterday morning. The staff couldn't coax a word from Gideon Gleeful's mouth and were beginning to suspect it was more of a psychological problem than an injury. A psychologist was to come in tomorrow if he wouldn't speak by then, yet he had refused to speak despite this. Of course, Gideon didn't know the details of his father, but Mabel suspected he's known a bit for awhile now. She smiled at him, despite the urge to cry about her new found knowledge. "Hi!"

Gideon didn't reply, though he fidgeted with the thin sheet covering his body, face paler than per usual. It didn't dissuade her and she was by his beside within seconds. "How you feeling?"

He avoided eye contact, which finally made her somewhat dissuade, smile dropping. "I can leave if you want me to."

She stepped back, but his arm shot out, grasping onto the front of her sweater. "Do you want me to stay? I know you aren't going to talk, but can you nod or shake your head?"

He nodded and she stepped forward as his hand released. She pulled up a seat and settled herself beside his bed. The washed out hospital gown made him appear sickly, but the shadows underneath his eyes were what really placed the exhaustion on him. She reached out for his hand, though he jerked it away in what appeared to be anticipation of her actions. Mabel suspected he would, but had attempted anyways. Apparently they weren't on as good as terms as she had thought them to be. "Sorry."

The brunette decided a different approach, though she was further hesitant of this one. "Do you...do you know...about...your dad...?"

He tensed at her words and immediately knew to abort. "Sorry! Um, uh, um...Oh! I saw the new Captain America movie with Grunkle Stan and Dipper. Do you like that sort of stuff?"

Gideon wasn't listening no longer though. He seemed to be stuck in his mind, repeating events of the past. The image of Bud Gleeful-or should she say Barney Grievous?- loomed in her mind and she shuddered. She reached out for his hand, though this time there was no resistance. The pudgy hand was limb and cold to the touch. Mabel felt tears well in her eyes as she thought about what he had gone through, be cornered into a deal with a demon, in order to feel as though he actually be worthy of anything. Mabel nearly startled as the hand tightened around her own and barely heard the hoarse whisper from his lips. "...thanks..."

Her lips stretched upwards, voice raising in a possessive pitch. "_Your welcome, Giddy._"

_Chapter 15 End_

**I promised myself when I first started this fanfiction, that I would never make my readers wait such a long time for the next chapter and it appears as though I broke my promise. I apologize with all my heart for the wait, but I actually have excuses on why it has been over a month since the last update. First of all, the last month of high school completely overwhelmed me and I hardly had time to write this out. When I actually did have time, I was completely stuck on how to go about this chapter. Honestly, I'm all not that satisfied with it and may edit it later on, though the changes will likely be minor ones. I want to thank you all for the wait though and the next chapter will come earlier than you think, since it's summer (I have a job though and studying to get license are going to occupy my time though, so I wanted to warn you about that). Anyways, notes for this chapter are, the idea of Bud Gleeful having a secret identity was simply to move along Gideon's plot into the direction of Mabel's and Dipper's. Also, Jason Ritter is Dipper's voice actor as another side note.  
**


	17. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Mabel entered into the clearing, where the Mystery Shack lay, leaving the woods behind as the mid-day sun shined upon her. Gideon had soon fallen asleep after he quietly replied to her, back at the hospital. The brunette had decided then was the best time to retreat back to home and had cringed when she realized how angry Stan would be at her for running off after this morning. She couldn't of helped it; she thought Gideon had known and would need comfort, though it had turned out that he was unaware of his father's real identity. Or was he? As she moved towards the house, she froze in place, staring up at triangle shaped window, leading up to the attic. There, a figure stood, shadowy, as though they weren't completely there. The figure shifted, and came into view, revealing it to be Stanley, tightly holding a shotgun. She gasped and raced inside. When her great-uncle saw her from the reclining chair in the living room, she ignored the calls from him as she barreled up the stairs, two at time.

Mabel exploded into the attic room, where her brother and her slept. "Grandpa Stanley?!"

No one, of course, stood by the window, nor was there a reflection of anyone on the window. A lump on her brother's bed moved though, and Dipper's sleepy face peeped out from beneath his blanket. "M'bel?"

She cocked her head in confusion and stepped closer to his bed. A thought occurred to her and she inwardly cringed guiltily. "Did...did you have another panic attack?"

He shook his head. "Se'zure..."

"Oh my god! Are you ok?! You haven't had one si-"

Stan stepped into the room, panting slightly. He easily composed himself though, and glared at Mabel. "Where the heck have you been?"

Mabel gulped. "The...hospital..."

"Do you two gremlins listen to anything an adult says? Or is it just me?" Stan grumbled, though there didn't seem to be much heat behind it, surprisingly.

"Gr'nk-" Dipper cleared his throat, becoming less sleepy. "Grunkle Stan?"

"Oh, you're up now?" Stan questioned, stepping to his bedside.

"Dipper said he had a seizure, again?" Mabel asked, feeling concerned still.

"Oh, so this is common apparently? How many other things have you two decided to keep from me?"

Mabel frowned, feeling more irritated than concerned now. Stan seemed to be keeping just as many secrets as they were and him accusing them of hiding more than he thought seemed a bit hypocritical of him. "It's only happened a few times."

"So, we got you two stealing my brother's books, hiding Dipper's seizures and anxiety, and you both making deals with demons. Anything else you wanna tell me, while we're at it?" Stan groused.

"Well, I don't like your pancakes." Dipper stated.

The elder man glared at him. "I'm about ready t-"

"Uh, Grunkle Stan, I wanted to actually know if you wanted to come to the hospital to visit Gideon tomorrow?" Mabel asked, deciding it best to cease Dipper from causing Stan to actually grow angry.

He raised an eyebrow, not even realizing what she did. "Why the heck do I wanna go there? I'm there practically everyday thanks to your brother!"

Stan gestured at Dipper, who frowned. "Hey, it's not my faul-"

It then occurred to Mabel that he wouldn't want to visit Gideon. He may of rescued him from his abusive father, but that didn't mean he wanted to involve himself any further. She turned to Dipper instead, feeling confident he would want to come. "Are you coming?"

Dipper bit his lip. "I...I don't think I should."

That was a surprise. "What? But, I thought you would want to?"

Dipper looked away. "Mabel, I just don't thi-"

Mabel realized her brother was perhaps in a state of denial about the connection. She was suddenly on his bed, grasping at his left hand, placing it over the left side of her chest. Dipper gave her a startled look at this. "Do you feel that?"

"Uhhh, y-your heart?"

"No, _that_."

Dipper squinted his eyes and stared uncomfortably at the hand over her heart. "...I-I don't know?"

"The connection! Don't you remember it?"

Dipper closed his eyes and was silent for moment. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her hand in awe. "Yeah...I can."

"That's what we have with Gideon! Just like when I'm with you, I can feel it around him!"

He was silent for a beat, before he spoke. "W-Well...I...I guess I can come..."

"Yay!" Mabel cried, clapping her hands.

"Ok, what the heck is going on? You two keep mentioning all of these connection things and powers and I want an explanation to all of this!" Stan interrupted.

Mabel looked to Dipper for permission, who in turn looked at the wall beside his bed. "...Go ahead."

"Well, um...I've...seen things since I was little...like...ghosts," Mabel began, becoming quieter towards the end of the sentence. "And Dipper...he hears things that happen in the...future or...in the past..."

"I've heard things in the present too..." Dipper mumbled.

Mabel nodded, seeming more confident about telling once her twin joined in. "Me too, but I see that, instead of hearing it."

"So...like you two are psychic?" Stan asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Uhhh, yes?" Even Mabel didn't fully understand it.

"Ok, how about you kids show me these 'powers', so I know you aren't pulling my leg here."

Mabel laughed nervously, completely unsure of how to go about this. "Uhhhh...?"

Dipper cringed internally. Even he wasn't aware of how to purposely use his powers. He coul-Oh. "You lied to our mom about us being in a 'four-star hotel' and that the Shack had rats in it, when Gideon actually stole your deed."

"You overhearing me talking on the phone doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, oh! Grandpa Stanley was named after Great-Grandpa Stanley!" Mabel chimed in.

"Your pops could of told you that."

Mabel had no idea what to say now, yet it seemed as usual her brother had all of the answers. "You call your brother...L-Lee."

Stan tensed, knowing his brother's wife would of never told her son that, causing it to be impossible for his nephew, and thus for his grand-nephew as well. He stared at the brunet with wide eyes, voice coming out as stunned. "How...how did you know that?"

"Our powers." Both the twins replied in sync.

Stan glared at them, seemingly over his shock in a heart beat, though avoiding the topic of his twin. "Stop doing all of that The Shining stuff, or else I'll disown the both of you."

"The what?" They asked, once more in sync.

"...I'm leaving." Stan stated, slamming the door behind him.

Mabel released a sigh of relief and wiped her forehead. "I thought I was in trouble!"

The door opened and Stan's head popped in. "Thanks for reminding me; you won't have dinner tonight."

"What?!" Mabel cried, as he shut the door, laughing evilly. When Stan left the room though, he covered his mouth with a trembling hand, breathing out his brother's nickname, as his eyes welled with unshed tears. The face of agony melted in a second, becoming determined, before leaving for the basement, where the portal constantly hummed and called for him.

_~!4-15-5-19/1-14-25-15-14-5/18-5-1-4/20-8-5-19-5!~  
_

When the twins entered the hospital the following day, accompanied by a scowling Grunkle Stan, they were greeted by the sight of a clearly agitated man in a suit, arguing with Dr. Thompson in the hallway near the reception desk, in hushed voices. None of them could hear what was being argued about, but Dipper had a suspicion that involved Gideon. Stan was, surprisingly, the first to step forward to the pair. "Dick."

The pair immediately ceased speaking, when they realized the had an audience. Dr. Thompson smiled warily at the elder man. "Stan, it seems as though you've caught me at a bad time."

"Uh, well the kids wanted to see Gleeful's-uh, I mean Grievous's-boy, again."

The man in suit raised an eyebrow at them. His dark eyes grudgingly observed the trio, then he released a sigh. "Are your grandchildren friends of Gideon?"

"Yes." Mabel automatically answered genuinely, though Dipper currently felt unsure at the moment about the answer, so he remained silent.

"...I can't tell you any details, as that would be unethical of a psychologist, but he's being uncooperative or maybe frightened, and refuses to speak to me. Perhaps his friends could help, as his immediate family is, er, indisposed at the moment." The man explained.

"We can help." Mabel volunteered.

Stan stared at her, then to Dipper, who nodded, well-aware his sister wouldn't take no for an answer. The elder man rubbed a hand across his jaw and released a sigh, before grumbling quietly to himself. "I'm already getting more involved than I need to..."

"What was that?" The psychologist questioned, not hearing his response.

Stan raised his voice, removing his hand from his face. "Yeah, they can help out."

When Dipper entered the room though, a tingle went down his spine and he shuddered, finding himself uncertain if he should even be here to visit. It was that...connection, rippling throughout his soul. And that connection felt...somewhat thin at the moment, causing his soul to feel cautious about the presence of Gideon Gleeful. When he looked around the room, before settling on the back of Gideon, who was curled up in a ball in a chair beside the window, no longer wearing a hospital gown, but a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. It struck him odd to view Gideon in anything other than a suit. From behind, his hair appeared limp and lifeless, unlike when he first met him, further striking him odd. Dipper realized he's been thinking that about Gideon constantly. He wasn't sure how Stan knew, but he somehow got the psychologist to leave, causing the twins to be alone with the freckled boy. Mabel settled herself in a chair, on the left side of him, facing towards the window. Dipper hesitantly pulled up a chair beside his right side, avoiding any view of the boy's face, feeling as though he didn't belong here. He was surprised when Gideon was the first to speak, Texan twang more prominent than before, yet voice softer than ever. "...don't w-want h-him here..."

"Dipper?" Mabel asked.

"...n-no...the p-psychologist..." Gideon replied, voice beginning to thicken with emotion.

"He just wants to help...Have you talked to anyone besides me since you woke up?" Gideon didn't reply, which was an answer in itself. Mabel frowned at him, concern clearly exhibited. "Look at me."

"...n-no..."

"Please?" Dipper thought Gideon would give her the same answer, but he faced to her, before she reached out for his hand, squeezing it. "It's ok to cry."

The brunet nearly ceased breathing at those words, finding them to be similar to his own doctor's. Gideon faced away from his sister, glancing at Dipper, revealing his tear stained face. His buried the memories of his own time in the hospital, stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the freckled child, being reminded of when he caught Gideon sobbing in the forest. And, that was the moment that Dipper decided to get in deeper than he already was, knowing the connection was stronger than he intended it to be. "Do...do y-you remember what happened?"

Gideon gazed into his own eyes, before sniffling. The tears in his red-rimmed eyes swelled out and he gasped aloud. "I...I...y-yes."

The twins shared a pained look, before Mabel spoke. "How much?"

"...p-pieces...s-she...made me not s-see...things...s-sometimes..."

Dipper wasn't quite sure if this was beneficial for him or not...then again, knows what else Jill has done while in his body? Knowing exactly may of broken the 10-year-old beyond repair, and he was sure that the freckled boy wouldn't even be speaking right now, perhaps in a catatonic state that Dipper had occupied for a time. Gideon seemed to be so close to edge right now though, he needed to comfort the boy in some way. "Your...d-dad, he's going to go away for a long time...he can't h-hurt you or your mom, again."

The boy's gasps were ragged now though, eyes wide in panic. His pudgy hands covered his eyes and he shuddered. "...'m sorry...been b-bad b-boy...'m sorry...'m sorry..."

Dipper knew what he had done; he had set Gideon into a flashback, simply by mentioning the man who had abused him and his mother. Guilt consumed Dipper and he suddenly felt like a terrible person. Mabel didn't notice his self-pity though, instead reaching out for Gideon's hands. Bud Gleeful-Barney Grevious-was here though, here in Gideon's state of mind, and unable to remove his abuser's presence from his mind. Dipper snatched Mabel's hands away, before she could touch him, and hissed at her. "He thinks his dad is here and he used to hit him! He's not going to know that it's not him!"

Dipper wasn't sure how he knew this, but he could hear a voice echoing the information in his mind. Mabel appeared startled at this, then jerked her hands away, clearly concerned. "What are we supposed to do then?"

The voice that supplied information to him had no answer for this and Dipper looked away, anxiously wringing his hands. "I...I...don't think we can help him..."

_~!-?-!~_

Bill Cipher was waiting for Dipper and Mabel in the attic, when they came home from the hospital. He seemed to be in a sort mediated state, floating in the center of their room, eye closed, and in lotus position. That would have not fazed them by this point in the summer, yet the livid golden glow humming throughout his form did. The twins froze for a moment, somewhat mesmerized about the calming glow, nearly feeling for a moment as though the dream demon would protect them. That feeling was dissolved once he spoke. "_It's rude to stare._"

They jolted in surprise as his eye opened, revealing him to be aware of their presences. Automatically, Dipper avoided eye contact with the dream demon, still somewhat wary of him, though no longer horrified of the sight of him. Mabel stared straight into his eye though, as though she was completely at ease and she replied in a heartbeat. "It's rude to show up in people's houses without telling them."

Bill removed himself from lotus potions, glow fading, and seemed to beam at her. "_Glad to know there's no hard feelings from our earlier incident._"

Dipper frowned at that comment. What did he mean b-He froze, staring at the dream demon. He gulped compulsively as he realized there was a dent on his body, below his bow tie, knowing it hadn't been there the last time he had seen Bill. Mabel seemed to be staring in the same area, though her action seemed more angry than anything, and she grew a cold hearted look, one that was reserved for Dipper's bullies. "Glad to know you don't have any towards me."

"_Kid, you're a meat sack; I hold no hard feelings for them, though I do get annoyed with certain ones._"

"What do you want now?" Mabel questioned, clearly avoiding the crypticness of his reply.

"_Oh right, nearly forgot; just our deal._"

Dipper felt his stomach plunged, now aware that something wasn't right. His twin seemed as concerned as him now. "M-Mine? I'm gonna get him out, I just need more time t-"

"No, no, I know you'll do it, but, well, it seems there some complications now." Bill cut in, becoming serious.

"C-Complications?" Dipper asked.

Bill gazed at him and Dipper found himself looking away once more. "_Yes, Pine Tree; it seems as though your sister doesn't have as much time to hold up her end of the deal as you two think._"

"What's going on?" Mabel asked, eyes widening.

"_You two frown too much. Lighten up and smile! You never seem to have a problem pretending to do that, Shooting Star._"

Dipper knew he had missed their last meeting now, finding the sentences to be strange. Mabel continued on, as though she hadn't heard him speak in the first place. "Bill, what's wrong with the deal?"

The triangle sighed aloud, finally continuing on. "_Well, in other dimensions and pocket ones there are...other 'species', I suppose you meat sacks would say._"

Dipper perked up a bit, seemingly interested about the idea of other living beings occupying other places than where they did. "Species?"

"_Oh, I've caught your attention, haven't I?_" Dipper felt embarrassed and a bit nervous about how well Bill could read him, though the triangle on the other hand seemed to revel in this. He released an eerie chuckle. "_Well, you'll love this: they're after your gramps._"

"What? Grandpa Stanley?!" Mabel cried, paling.

"_They catch his scent each time he tried leaving the Shack in his dimension, so he never did. They've been agitated by something though and now are attempting to break in. If you don't go through with your end soon...well let's just say your gramps may be invited to dinner soon._"

_Chapter 16 End_

**First of all, Mabel did get her dinner, so don't worry (is this a lame attempt to lighten the mood of the story? Yes, yes it is). Secondly, I'm surprised that I was able to write this so recently after the previous chapter, especially since there was a month gap between chapter 14 and 15. I promised to keep the time between each update shorter during the summer and I hope I won't disappoint all of you fantastic readers. The next chapter should be fairly soon, so you don't have to wait all that long after all (and a certain elder Pines twin will have some action next chapter).**


	18. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Stanley cursed himself for all the times he had told his brother to cease his nagging about them only involving themselves with the supernatural. At first glance, most would assume it would be Stan that got the pair in trouble, but nope, it had always been Stanley, who typically delved himself too deep with what he shouldn't, and having his brother facing the consequences for their actions. In more ways than one, his brother was brighter than he was, knowing full well when to keep his head down or not to poke at what shouldn't be. That was the largest reason he cursed himself at the moment; his brother was becoming reckless, in the desperate need to save him and Stanley couldn't stomp out the guilt it caused. That was part of the reason though. The other reason he cursed himself, was that he had thought himself acute enough to escape them. No, in all hindsight, he should of realized it would be only a matter of time before they became interested in his scent and decided to kill him.

At one point, when he had first arrived in this realm, the very sight of them horrified him to no end, despite the fact they didn't even find him worthy enough give him a second glance. He had hidden in his bedroom's closet for god knew how long, since time didn't appear to exist here, before realizing they seemed to have no interest, otherwise he would be dead quite awhile ago. Stanley made his mistake though, when he thought they would never take interest of him, unless he was directly involving himself. Yes, that was his mistake, for they now constantly circled the reverse Shack, coming closer as he waited for them. And there was his granddaughter, never answering his urgent calls. Or perhaps, some force was preventing them from contact. Either way, the brunet didn't like the direction this was going, or that he was reduced to confiding himself to the attic, fear of them returning full force.

He clung to his father's combat shotgun, from his time in World War I, quaking at the idea of his strong father not being quite enough to protect him against what he feared this time. Stanley was not one to be fearful of much, especially at the age of 30-was he still 30? Was he much older? Does he age mentally?- but here he was, on the verge of tears, wishing his brother would hear him. "D-Damn it, S-Stanford!"

There was a crack as the front door was blown in and Stanley squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation.

_~!-?-!~_

When Mabel and Dipper went to visit Gideon the following day, they had decided to push the idea of Stanley possibly being eaten alive to their back of their minds, realizing they weren't any closer to rescuing him than before. In the fore-mind, the twins knew Gideon's father had already been in court for three days, and though none of the doctors had said anything to the 10-year-old, he knew that he couldn't stay in the hospital much longer. There were more pressing matters than that present in his mind though. "T-They won't t-tell me about my M-Ma..."

Mabel gulped, feeling somewhat ill as an image of red and a stressed face blew through her mind. That image kept popping up since that night and she felt thankful that she never entered the room where Mrs. Gleeful had been. All she knew, from what Dipper said he heard one night in his mind, was that the hospital announced her comatose and she had been in surgery for an unknown reason. Dipper then muttered about that screams echoed within his head, and Mabel hugged him, telling him about the red covering her face. They both agreed that not telling Gideon would be best for his emotions. "S-She's ok...I just know it."

Gideon looked up at her with large, trusting eyes, and Mabel felt guilty that she had lied to her innocent friend. Mrs. Gleeful wasn't alright and Mabel feared that maybe she never would be. Dipper shifted the conversation though, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "How long are you going to say in the hospital?"

Gideon may of been young, but not ignorant by any means. He knew that since he was physically uninjured, he would have to leave soon. He shrugged uncomfortably at this notion. Then, he wetted his lips with his tongue, before whispering. "That p-psychologist wants t-to take m-me to another h-hospital f-for people t-that need h-help with...s-stuff in t-their heads..."

Dipper found himself releasing a choked noise that had Mabel giving him an alarmed look. "Dipper?"

Gideon couldn't. He just couldn't. The mental hospital had helped him, but he hadn't enjoyed it, especially when he revealed his darkest secret, and they told him he had imagined it, due to his anxiety. Called it a hallucination due to "the stress on his mind". Dipper had finally agreed, only to appease them, but had felt so distorted about what was real or not. Imagine what they would say about the supernatural events Gideon would eventually tell them. He reached forward in his seat, taking Gideon by surprise, as he snatched one of his hands into his own. "I won't let them."

Mabel bit her lip. "...Dipper, we can't do anything."

Dipper gave her a startled look, surprised since she was usually the positive one. "Wh-"

"We're only 13 and Gideon has had been through something really bad. They're gonna want to help him and...we can't do anything to stop them."

"But, Mabe-"

"I know _how_ to stop them though." Mabel cut him off, appearing somber.

"H-How?" Dipper asked, unsure about her tone of voice. Gideon seemed to be as well, for he tensely squeezed Dipper's hand.

"Gideon makes a deal with Bill."

Gideon jerked his hand from the brunet, as though he had been burned, and nearly fell off the bed as he pushed away. "N-NO!"

Dipper and Mabel immediately jolted up from their seats, one of them grabbing pudgy arm, the other his leg, pulling him back onto it, before he could completely fall off. Gideon buried his face in his hands, and they released his limps, observing as he rolled over onto his side. "P-Please, n-no!"

Dipper whirled his head to his sister, before exclaiming. "Mabel, are you out of your mind?!"

She frantically shook her head. "No! If he asks Bill to make it so they won't take him to that hospital, then he won't have to go at all!"

"Mabel! You can't just-! Augh! Look at him!" Dipper cried, pointing at the trembling form of a sobbing Gideon. "He won't be able to do it! Who knows what Bill will ask in return!"

Mabel's lips trembling, observing him. "But...but...!"

Dipper stonily gazed away from his despaired sister, squeezing his eyes shut. He made up his mind within moments and opened his eyes. "...I'll do it."

His twin appeared surprised. "But, Dipper, you're alread-"

"I know."

"But, y-"

"I know! I'm not letting _them_ make him believe that what can hurt him was part of his imagination! I'm not letting them do what _they_ did to ME!" Dipper finished, panting.

Mabel froze. "...y-you said they helped you?"

Dipper ripped off his hat and grasped at his bangs. "T-They did, b-but...augh...they made me a-also..."

The 13-year-old didn't feel right, nearly distorted as he was nearly a year ago. They fixed him, made him whole and shattered, yet...yet...it was like gluing together a broken teacup, then...the glue that would melt under the constant heat and pressure...and...and simply returning to it's broken state. What occurred next was what had been slowly building up since arriving in Gravity Falls. Dipper hissed out a very non-Dipper word in his frustration. "SHIT!"

Gideon reached his face out of his hands and craned his neck over to view the gasping Dipper, gaping as he pulled his hair hard enough for a few strands to come out. Mabel reached forward and pulled his hands away, in an effort to prevent him from this action. "D-Dipper? A-Are you ok?"

Dipper snarled at her. "Do I look ok?!"

Mabel released her hands in fright and Dipper paled immediately, demeanor returning to normal. "O-Oh my god...I...I...n-need to leave."

Neither of them halted him as he bolted from the room, both feeling quite shaken about his change in behavior.

_~!-?-!~_

"S-She's going to h-hate me forever and s-she'll never look at me a-again and I won't ever be h-happy again and I'll d-die all alone!" Dipper cried out to himself, completely breaking down as his anxiety consumed him, and sobbed nearly hysterically inside a closet in the Mystery Shack. He wiped his nose, feeling it ooze onto the palm of his hand, yet completely uncaring as of that moment. He grasped at his hair once more and pulled painfully at it. A keening noise was released as he began to rock back and forth. "I-I'm only causing t-trouble to everyone a-around me...I need...I need...to j-just...d-"

"_Well, Pine Tree, that's just what you do; cause trouble for everyone around you._"

Dipper glanced up, scowled at the glowing triangle, then buried his face into his knees, feeling his anxiety release, though feeling angry now. "L-Leave me alone..."

"_You and Shooting Star say the same thing wayyyy too much,_" Dipper didn't reply, yet Bill seemed unaffected by this. "_And you meat sacks seems to assume I'll leave, just because they tell me to._"

"P-Please...I k-know I r-ruin everything...just...p-please go a-away!" Dipper sobbed, feeling less angry and more saddened. He couldn't seem to control his emotions and was beginning to become exhausted from how rapidly his mood was altered.

"_Poor little sapling...feel all alone, don't you? Well, I remember someone else like you._"

Dipper stilled and gazed up, tears rolling down his cheeks. "...W-Who?"

"_Me,_" Dipper scoffed and buried his face back into his knees. "_Oh come on, you don't think I wasn't like you once?_"

"I'm n-not like y-you."

Bill chuckled. "_I know, I know, just messing with you._"

"...j-jerk..."

Bill chuckled louder, then calmed after a few moments. "_No, no, I was more like that sister of your's._"

His forehead was rested upon his knees, mouth gaped open, tongue burning with the beginnings of questions within him, buzzing at the possibility of secrets. As his mouth began to form the sentences though, his jaw snapped shut, realizing the answer would ruin him, burn the trust of sister full out of him. And, with this thought, Dipper realized somewhere along the way, he had began to trust Bill Cipher. He trembled, as he realized it and nearly began to burst out into tears once more. Instead, he looked up, meeting the eye of the dream demon. "I want to make another deal."

He seemed nearly greedy at the prospect of Dipper making another deal and couldn't help the disgust from visibly appearing on his face. Bill wasn't paying attention to that though, nearly consumed with what he spoke. "_Oh?_"

"Don't let them take Gideon there."

Obviously, the dream demon knew exactly what he spoke of. "_And? What do I get?_"

"What do you want?"

Bill seemed to genuinely be pondering this, causing Dipper to begin to think this was a mistake. "_Hmmm...don't kill yourself."  
_

Dipper shuddered and began to pull at his hair once more, strands falling out. "...I...I can't promise that..."

"_Nothing will come of it, no sweet release, Pine Tree._"

"How do you know?"

"_Because, I've done it,_" Dipper's chocolate eyes gazed into the single black one, gazing into the truth of statement. "_Your inner demons, cause you to become a_ _demon, but only the most twisted will make it to where I am._"

"...Why? W-Why don't you want me to k-kill myself?"

"_I need to use you._"

"Oh..._Oh_...you don't...you don't care."

"_How could I care, Pine Tree? You're simply a human, a human that was born from Jill's mistakes and vengeance, once not necessary, but thrust into the spotlight where I can use you,_" Dipper trusted him, he had grown to trust the dream demon, and had made a mistake. Bill Cipher didn't care, simply needed him now that there was a threat to himself. Despite that though...despite that...Dipper knew he had a purpose now. With that positive thought in mind, his hand reached upwards, head lowering back down to his knee, grasping for the hand of the triangle. There was a burning sensation as a flamed hand clenched onto his and an echoed chuckle. "_Knew you would come around to your senses, Pine Tree._"

Though he had purpose, he sunk deeper, into the darkness.

_~!-?-!~_

Stan muttered under his breath at the findings of the day, discovering them to lower than ever before. He banged his fist onto the desk, causing a coffee cup full of chewed up pens to fall over, spilling it's contents onto the floor. On top of everything else happening lately, he had also been finding it difficult to earn enough money for three people and for his employees. If he didn't earn more on a daily business, he would have to shut down the Mystery Shack and send his grand-niece and grand-nephew back to California. Speaking of them, he hadn't thought up a escape from their contracts yet. "Damn kids getting involved with fucking demons..."

It was at that moment that Soos entered and he composed himself immediately, not wanting to scare the man with his frustration. "Soos? I thought you and Corduroy left already?"

"Uh, Wendy already left, I just need to talk to you, Mr. Pines." Soos commented, appearing unusually serious.

Stan raised an eyebrow, hoping this wouldn't be about his pay. "About?"

"Having some time off."

"Time off? What do you need to do that for?" Stan asked, surprised, considering Soos had never asked for time off before.

Soos removed his hat and bit his lip, appearing uncertain. Stan felt as though he would regret this, but he told him to sit in the seat in front of the desk. He complied and stared at his lap. The elder man was about to kick him out, finding this whole thing to be too awkward, but Soos spoke before he could do anything. "My mami...she's in the hospital...I... I need some time off, Mr. Pines..."

Stan frowned and leaned forward. "Hold on, your mom is in the hospital?"

Soos nodded once and the elder man gulped. The only time he had heard anything about Soos's mother was a bit after he started working here and Stan had asked why he lived with his grandmother, instead of his folks. He was then told about how his father traveled the U.S. for his job, though not much else. He didn't say anything about his mother though and when Stan questioned about her, Soos's reply had made him wonder about his upbringing up until the point where he moved in with his grandmother at the age of seven. "Mami gets money from guys when she helps them."

Stan has had multiple conclusions as to what that could mean, most were illegal, and he had decided in the end that he would rather never find out. Until now. "Okkkk, why is she in the hospital?"

Soos's hands were squeezed into fists and he seemed to grimace before replying. "Cancer."

Stan pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Shit...uh...I'm, uh...sorry to hear that..."

Soos shrugged in reply, before shocking Stan with his answer. "Abuelita calls it karma."

The elder man froze, put his glasses back on, and eyed him. "And...do you think it is?"

"I guess when you help people do bad things, then bad things happen to you." He mumbled, slouching in the chair.

"Look, Soos, I don't wanna pry or anything, but do you mind telling me what she's done to warrant...your feelings to her?"

Soos seemed to become shifty eyed, as though he suspected someone was watching. "I-I can't."

"And why not?"

"I'm, uh, not allowed to, Mr. Pines."

Stan was becoming suspicious. "Soos, why you so secretive about her?"

"Because...of P-Papa."

"What?"

"Mr. Pines...I'm not supposed to...I... P-Papa left my M-Mami, b-because she wouldn't...was o-obsessed with something she wasn't supposed to be."

"What was she 'obsessed' wi-?"

"Mr. Pines, please, I can't tell you anything else."

Stan observed the nervous young adult and finally sighed. "Alright, how many days?"

"Five."

"Four."

"Ok."

"Now, get outta my office; I have work to do."

_Chapter 17 End_

**This will possibly be the most I'll delve into Soos for this story, since this isn't about him. You'll soon get a few more peeks at the others on the wheel, but they're going to get the same amount attention as Soos will. This is the story about the Pines and Gideon, so the attention will mainly be focused on them. Next chapter will feature insight on Wendy, so be prepared for that. Reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated as always!  
**


	19. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. There is also mention of suicide, if that might trigger some feelings, skip over the part where Mabel and Dipper talk in the attic (it's brief, as in a sentence or two).  
**

"I-I'm s-sorry." Gideon sputtered out, tears welling in his eyes.

Mabel shook her head. "No, it's not your fault; Dipper just...gets like that sometimes."

The 10-year-old gulped. "B-But, I never h-heard him s-say a b-bad word b-before."

She was becoming concerned with how much his stuttering was becoming, finding it unnerving at the concept of his mind stressing on experiences from recent times. It was worst than Dipper's was and she knew how stressed he was in the present. She didn't comment on that though, figuring he would feel self conscious if she did so. "It only happens sometimes."

"S-Sometimes?"

Mabel's lips were in a thin line. "If he's...feeling like...someone else he does."

"Oh...like when _s-she_ u-used me and I-I was m-mean?"

Mabel appeared anguished at this reminder and then nodded. "Yes...except...Dipper is using himself."

It was then that Dr. Thompson entered and approached the pair. "Mabel, I need to speak to Gideon alone."

"S-She can s-stay..." The 10-year-old whispered.

The doctor gave him a startled look, not having heard his voice until now. "Very well, but Mabel please be discreet with whom you speak with about personal matters of my patients."

Mabel nodded and he continued on. "Dr. Watts-your psychologist-has deemed you worthy to leave the hospital and I have to agree on this one, since it seems you are able to speak now. However, as a minor, without available parents or relatives, it seems as though we'll have to send you to foster care for the moment."

"Foster care? You mean someone is gonna adopt him?" Mabel questioned, growing fearful of him being sent away.

"No, no. Fostering is when a family momentarily takes him in without adopting. Fostering can be anywhere from days to years, depending on the situation. No adopting though. Do you understand this, Gideon?"

Gideon gulped. "Y-Yes."

"Now, I know it can be a difficult process a-"

"Will he go far away?" She didn't approve of that and the freckled boy clearly didn't either.

"Possibly. It depends on who we can find within a short time span."

"But, bu-"

"Mabel, I'm sorry to say, but this isn't up to you. And, Gideon, it may be difficult adjusting to your temporary family, but I promise you, you'll be in good hands. I'll make sure of that." Dr. Thompson concluded.

Mabel remembered though, seeing a flash of her father as a teenager, standing before the Mystery Shack, face glum. "GRUNKLE STAN FOSTERED BEFORE!"

Dr. Thompson and Gideon jolted at her outburst. The 13-year-old blushed a bit, before revealing her though progress. "Um, Grunkle Stan can foster, so maybe Gideon be with him."

The doctor seemed as though he was struggling between laughing and being professional. Gideon had that "deer-in-headlights" sort of face. Dr. Thompson composed himself within moments and cleared his throat. "Um, Mabel, your grandfat-" Gideon frowned at the word. "-her, isn't...all that...uh, your grandfather wouldn't approve of this."

Mabel was well-aware of that, but she had to try. "But, he could."

"Er, yes, I heard that his nephew was in his care for a year, so essentially yes. But, I highly doubt he would approve of this."

"Please, just let me talk to him, Dr. Thompson. Just give me until tomorrow, please?" Mabel begged, clasping her hands together.

His own son never begged him of anything, so seeing her with those large, innocent eyes, tugged at his heartstrings. But, overtime, he's learned that begging from patients only made the situation worse. He was quite conflicted between being a father and being a doctor at the moment. "Mabel, I can't do that. Holding this off would be unethical and unprofessional of me. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"But, bu-"

Dr. Thompson leaned forward. "Waiting for _two days_ wouldn't be in the question."

Mabel furrowed her eyebrows. "Wait, two days? I was just asking until tomorrow. I j-"

"Sorry, can't do _two days_." Dr. Thompson concluded, surprisingly winking as he left.

She felt her excitement grow, as it dawned upon her that she was receiving permission to wait until tomorrow for an answer. She swiveled her head back to a confused Gideon and excitedly told him to just wait until tomorrow, not noticing his grimace each time she mentioned her great-uncle. When the brunette returned home, after a brief goodbye to her friend, though, her excitement had clearly reduced, realizing Stan wouldn't approve of this idea. Mabel was determined to keep Gideon close, knowing he needed her and Dipper to survive. When she entered Stan's office, just like she predicted, he was bent over papers, mumbling to himself. Perfect. "Hi, Grunkle Stan."

Stan grunted in reply and she thought it to be a sign to continue. "You were a foster parent for my dad, right?"

"Yeah..." He mumbled, clearly not listening as he scribbled onto his papers and punched in some numbers onto his calculator.

"Welllll, Gideon can't say in the hospital anymore, since he's not hurt, and Dr. Thompson says he needs a parent, orrrr he's going to put him into foster care."

"Uh-huh."

"Soooo, would you foster Gideon?"

"Yeah, sure."

Mabel blinked in surprise. "You're going to foster him?"

"Yeah, look Mabel, I'm kind of busy right now. We can talk later." Stan grumbled as he scratched out what he wrote.

"You promise though?"

"What? Promise what?" Stan asked, looking up from his papers.

"To foster Gideon for awhile."

The elder man nearly fell out of his chair in surprise, but immediately steadied himself. "To what?! Foster?!"

Mabel cringed, knowing this wasn't going as well as she thought. "Uh, y-yeah. He needs someone to foster him, since his, um, mom and dad can't."

"Ok, and you thought I would?"

"You don't have do much, j-"

"No, no, that's what the social worker said to me when I had to watch your pops for a year and he didn't even know how to cook for himself, so I had to do it! I have to actually do stuff to take care of him, kid!"

"But, you said you made him always coo-"

"Well, I lied! The kid could barely do anything, since my sister-in-law babied him so much!"

The image of a younger version of her father swam into view, revealing him to be curled up into a ball, underneath the covers in his bed, staring blankly at the wall, tears streaming down his face. Mabel felt words erupt from her mouth against her will. "Maybe cause his mom just died!"

Stan lurched forward, raising his hand as though to slap her, and the memory of Dipper being smacked flashed throughout her, and she stumbled back. Stan's hand nearly touched the desk and he froze at her actions. It dawned upon her that he was going to hit the table and not her. It was too late though, and she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, before he sat back down. He began to furiously punch in numbers into the calculator and replied in an emotionless tone. "I'll think about it."

"Y-You have until tomorrow, because Dr. Thompson is going to send him away then..."

"Ok."

Mabel left, feeling a deep seated sickness in the pit of her stomach. Grunkle Stan wouldn't ever purposely hurt them, especially since she was a girl. The only reason he hit Dipper, was because he became a bit upset about the topic of his brother. She paled, realizing how this would sound to anyone else and vowed to never tell her parents about that event in the Stanley Mobile. She perked up from her depressive thoughts though, realizing he would actually think about it. In her excitement, she forgot what had occurred earlier that day in the hospital, and bolted upstairs, exploding into her room. "Dipper!"

When she saw her brother on the edge of his bed, arms laying on his knees, wearily sagged forwards, she paused. His eyes seemed dulled in an lifeless sort of way, but he intently watched her as she entered. "...what?"

Mabel remembered everything that happened, excitement full gone now, and began to realize she had seen her brother in this state before. The brunette cautiously approached the bed, finding this situation more familiar than what she would like. When he didn't lash out at her, she flopped down onto it and Dipper was jostled by the movement, causing him to fall backwards, head nearly hitting the wall. She crawled over to him and stared at his face. "I'm not mad or scared, if that's what you think."

His chocolate eyes shifted over to her and there was a unreadable gleam to them. No, Mabel wasn't scared of this Dipper, but was scared for him. "I wanted to hit you."

"Well, it's not like you haven't."

Dipper frowned. "What?"

"Or, maybe it was him? I don't know, sometimes I didn't know if you were Dipper or Jason...actually, I don't know right now, either."

Dipper stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know either. I...I'm tired though."

"You made the deal, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so. What do you have to do for him?"

There was a flicker in his eyes and they seemed less dulled. "Not to die."

"How can you do that?"

"I think he just means not dying anytime soon."

"What if you get in a car accident or drown o-"

"I don't know, Mabel, and I don't care."

Mabel laid next to him. "Please, don't."

"Don't what?"

"Please, don't become like that, again. Don't become Jason, please."

"Dipper isn't happy though."

Mabel stared at him. "Jason, please, I don't want him to hurt himself."

"He can't and I can't though."

"Can't?"

"I lied; my deal was not to kill myself."

Mabel's lip trembled. "You wanted to kill yourself?"

"At the time, we both did. I think we is becoming me, again, though. And, I don't know what to do about that. I'm Jason right now though, but I'll be Dipper when I wake up. Is that ok?" He seemed hopelessly confused by his own wording, appearing as though he was younger than he actually was. Mabel knew, deep down that Dipper had those suicidal thoughts, yet she had always ignored it. The idea of him actually going through with it, due to her neglecting him, sent shivers down her spine. The brunette sat up and began removing her brother's shoes. "W-What are you doing?"

"You said you were tired, so I'm helping you." She threw his shoes off the side of the bed and then threw her own over.

She crawled underneath his blanket and Dipper glared at her. "Get off."

"No." Mabel answered, before closing her eyes and turning away from him.

"It's 5 o'clock."

"You said you were tired, so go to sleep."

"Go to hell."

Mabel rolled over and flicked the side of his head. Dipper didn't hesitant to smacked her across the face and Mabel released a cry. "Don't ever do that again, you no good bra-" She in return slapped him across the face and he tightly grasped her wrist. "Don't make me break your nose."

Mabel's jaw clenched. "Don't make me give you a bloody nose, again, Jason."

Dipper's lips spread thinner and he released her hands. Mabel rolled back over, facing the wall. He frowned at the this action, before whispering to her. "I didn't mean to...I'm sorry...I...you're what made him not kill himself. You were always there for him, even when he thought you didn't need him."

"...What about you?"

"I don't mean anything."

"You're my bro-bro."

"Dipper is."

"So is Jason."

"...you have only one brother."

"Yes and his name is Jason Ritter 'Dipper' Pines and I love him."

His eyes welled with tears and he left his bed. He flopped down onto Mabel's and curled into her covers. "...love you, too."

_~!16-1-3-9-6-9-3-1/9-19/14-5-24-20!~_

Dipper slunk from his room, wanting to leave before sister woke that morning. It felt as though he wasn't in his own body and he wanted to avoid talking to her in such a state. It was as though he had been gone from his body for such a long time and had been replaced by a stranger. It wasn't a stranger by any means though, it had been Jason. When he was pouring his milk into the Overly Sensitive Owl cereal, he nearly split the whole jug when Stan came barreling in and pointed at him, before shouting. "You!"

He caught the milk, though some splashed onto the tile, and hurriedly put the lid back on. "What the heck, Grunkle Stan?!"

"Corduroy is late and isn't answering her phone and Soos is on vacation, so I don't have any employees right now. Go by her house to find her."

"I'm about to eat breakfast though!"

"Go!" He shouted, before leaving the room. A moment later he returned though and pointed at the floor. "And clean up that mess! Jeez, kids these days!"

Dipper frowned and was all but forced from the Shack, after he finished wiping up the spilled milk. He headed into the forest, knowing Wendy's house wasn't all that far from Stan's, but found himself stumbling throughout the somewhat fogged area. "Should of just slept in..."

There were clouds gathering in the air though, forming what could possibly be a storm, and Dipper was intent on arriving at the Corduroy residence before it could escalate any further. It seemed luck was on his side, since by the time he had arrived the fog had fully cleared and it wasn't raining yet. He knocked on the door and shifting from foot to foot as he waited. After an awkward moment, he knocked once more, finding it unusual he had to wait so long. Finally though, the door swung open, revealing Daniel Corduroy in the entryway. "Dipper?"

He seemed to be subdued from his usual energy and had a weary appearance on his face. "O-Oh, uh, Manly Dan, is W-Wendy home?"

"Yeah, of course."

Of course? "Uh, she didn't come into work today."

Dan blinked. "And?"

Dipper was beginning to find this whole experience uncomfortable and was confused about how calm the lumberjack was at the moment. "Uh, Grunkle Stan n-needed her today for work."

He frowned. "Is this a joke?"

"J-Joke?"

"Oh, no one's told you, huh?" Dan asked, shoulders slumping.

Dipper didn't like where this was going. "W-What's going on?"

"Here, here, come inside." Dan waved him in and he hesitantly entered.

They stood in the entry way and 13-year-old realized how unusually dark and quiet it was. "M-Manly D-Dan?"

Dan gulped and avoided eye contact with him. "Ah, today is, ah, the anniversary of my wife's passing."

Dipper felt the blood run from his face and knew why Wendy hadn't shown up today. "O-Oh my god, I-I'm so s-so-"

"No, no, it's alright. It's been a few years, so it isn't as bad anymore, it hurts, but not as bad anymore. My daughter though, she took it harder than when I did. She was the only other girl, so she was pretty close with my wife." He concluded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck in an unusual matter, different from his norm.

"Oh, I-I should g-go." Dipper began to turn for the door, yet the lumberjack stopped him.

"Do you want to see her? She could probably use a friend. Her other one's don't come around on this day, I think they get nervous around her."

"No, I c-couldn't pos-"

"She's right outside. I could get Theo to take you out to her." Dan offered.

Dipper felt uncomfortable with the whole conversation and was having a difficult conveying it. Dan left for the living room though and he finally decided to follow. In the living room sat the youngest of the brothers, Theo and Charlie, staring at a paused home video tape, the face of a younger Wendy staring at him, a pair of woman's legs in the background. "Theo, take Dipper out to your sister."

Theo nodded and got up, before heading to the back door. Dipper caught a glimpse of Kurt, the oldest, at the kitchen table, laying his head in his arms on top of it and couldn't help but feel sympathetic at the idea of losing your mother when you're only eleven. As they headed outside, he wondered if Theo even remembered his mother, knowing him to be only one when she had passed. Theo answered his question though. "Sorry for you seeing my family like this...It's bad for them, but not so much for me, since I don't actually remember her."

Dipper thought it was mature for a 10-year-old to say that, but wondered if Theo felt different from the rest of his family. "I-It's ok. I didn't m-mean to intrude though, s-sorry."

"Nah, it's alright; Wendy probably needs someone. She can get pretty scary."

Scary? "Um, w-what is she d-doing out here a-anyways?"

"What she does every year," Theo responded as they entered a clearing, pointing at her. She was swinging an ax, it whistling each time she thrust it down upon a bare stump of a tree. "If she starts to scare you, you can just come back inside."

Theo was gone, back to his house, leaving Dipper to observing her. Her plaid top was tied around her waist, revealing her tank top underneath, sweat glistening on her skin. Her hat was missing and she wore her hair back in a ponytail. The vigor she was thrusting the ax into the stump seemed nearly painfully, and he was right, for her hands were covered in blood, likely from the wooden handle's friction. He jerked his eyes away from her hands, feeling ill at the sight. "W-Wendy?"

She didn't hear him though, the ax making contact when he spoke. Blood droplets had flown in every which direction and one landed on Dipper's face. He was suddenly falling, falling head over heels down the staircase, unaware that he was really staggering backwards and tripping over a stray log. Pain exploded throughout his leg at it becomes caught in the railing of the staircase and it snapped. His wrist broke as he reached out for the railing, to halt his fall. Pain in the back of his head, as it made contact with the ground and stars were in his vision. Pain, as he witnessed the blood pooling around his fac- "Dipper?"

He blinked and was back in the forest, fallen over top a log, Wendy staring at him with the ax held in her hands. She placed it on top of the stump and began to make her way over. She reached out her hands to help him up, but Dipper's eyes widened in fear. Wendy paused and stared at her hands, before hiding them behind her back. "Uh, are you alright?"

Usually, he would of felt embarrassed that the girl he liked saw him stumbling around like an idiot and would blush, yet he couldn't find himself to care about that at the moment. He lifted himself up, brushing off his dark pants. "Y-Yeah, uh, what are y-you doing?"

Wendy appeared awkward at the time, much as her father was when Dipper came over, shifting from foot to foot. "Just, you know, killing time. What are you doing here?"

"Y-You didn't show up at work and, um I got w-worried."

"Oh...did...Stan not tell you...?" Wendy trailed off.

"N-No, but y-your dad did...a-are y-you ok?"

She shrugged. "It's just the same every year."

"Oh, d-do you a-always do t-that to y-your hands?" He asked, but then regretted doing so when she brought her hands out from behind her back.

"This? They're ok, I just get a bit frustrated when I practice aiming and can't get it right." She causally told him.

Dipper suspected that she wasn't just practicing, but actually venting her feelings. "Um, w-well, do you want to hang out inside? It looks like it's about to rain."

"I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

There was a dangerous glint in her eyes and her reply came out harsh. "I just said I'm good."

The brunet understood what Theo meant about Wendy scaring people now. He had never seen her give him that look before and now he was on edge. "U-Um, I'm s-sorry."

"You can go home now and remind Stan why I couldn't come in today, even though I told him last year and the year before that why." She continued, going to pick up the ax.

"W-Wend-"

She whirled around and shouted. "Go away!"

Dipper cringed at felt his heart clench. Wendy wasn't finish though. "I just want everyone to leave me the hell alone already! Yeah, my mom died when I was like five and yeah I have to hit things to make it hurt less, but I don't care what anyone thinks, so leave me the hell alone!"

There was a crack echoed throughout the sky and lighting struck somewhere deep in the forest. Moments later, it began sprinkling and Wendy began to earnestly cry. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around her body. He was frozen in place for only a moment, before her crouched down next to her. "I-I'm sorry."

He was surprised when her hand shot out and grasped hold of his arm. The blood began to melt from the rain and run down his arm. The 13-year-old jerked his arm away and began wiping his arm onto his vest. "D-Dipper?"

He panic began to reduce as it blended into the dark material. "S-Sorry...don't like b-blood."

Her face appeared anguished as the rain plastered her bangs onto her face. "No, no, I'm sorry. I'm sobbing like a little baby about something that happened nine years ago."

"I-I would be too, if my mom d-died." Dipper informed her. She stared at him and he blushed. "I-I mean, uh, um, I-I-"

She wiped at her eyes and he realized she wasn't even wearing eye liner as she usually does. He thought she was beautiful anyways and found himself blushing more. "Thanks. Um, do you want to go inside now? We're getting soaked out here."

Dipper nodded vigorously, thankful though that the rain was washing away the blood on them both. He extended his hand and she took it. Wendy pulled herself up and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. She started to walk back towards her house and he found himself blurting out a question that he didn't actually want to know the answer to. "How did she die?"

She ceased walking, mid-stride and he covered his mouth. He removed his hand began to back pedal. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

Wendy fully turned back and waved off his apology. "No, nobody probably told you."

"Y-You don't have t-to, you c-"

She came back over to him. "I can tell you...just...give me a moment."

The red-head closed her eyes and gulped. "Well, uh, my dad took Kurt and Charlie with him to the store. I don't really know why I wanted to stay behind, but I did. Theo was just a baby, so he stayed in his crib. My mom saw that the light bulb in the kitchen was out and she wanted to change it. Dad was taller than her, so he could change it without a ladder if he was there. I told her that, but she wanted to do it anyways. So, she got the ladder and told me to come, so I could hold the l-light bulbs f-for her, and...and..."

Wendy wrapped her arms around herself and began to shake. Her eyes seemed nearly haunted as she whispered the next part to Dipper. "W-When I was f-five, my m-mom...she...she...s-she fell off t-the ladder in front o-of me and b-broke her neck...s-she died right a-away...and...and I-I called 911, b-because she always t-told me to do that if...if...someone g-got hurt really b-bad...b-but, by the time t-they came, she was...she was..."

And Wendy completely fell apart, thunder rumbling louder than ever in the distance, rain becoming thicker, the sobbing 16-year-old hugging the shocked 13-year-old. And, all Dipper could tell her, without his typical anxious stuttering, was a sorry, sorry for her loss, sorry for the time alone with the dead body of her mother. And, though everything was difficult for Wendy at the moment, the rest of the summer would be better. For the Pines though, the summer could only become worse, before it got better.

_End Chapter 18_

**Happy belated birthday to Alex Hirsch and Gravity Falls!  
**


	20. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Brief mention of how a suicide could of occurred, (not actually graphic, but I wanted to warn you all none the less) after Dipper's dream.  
**

Mabel blinked as she opened the fridge. She frowned, realizing this wasn't right. She observed the kitchen and frowned deeper. She stared intently at her hands and found there was an difficult to place scent in the air. Hadn't she just been slee-Oh, Mabel Juice. She smiled to herself as she pulled the pitcher out. As she began to pour the juice into her cup, it occurred to her that it was unusual for Dipper not be up at 9:00 AM and couldn't recall if his bed was empty or not when she had rose this morning. The brunette nearly went upstairs to investigate, when a more important concern occupied her mind. Mabel headed for the storefront, needing to know Stan's decision. When she came into the store, she discovered that surprisingly Stan stood at the register, instead of Wendy. She had never seen him stand there before, so it felt nearly surreal. "Grunkle Stan? Where's Wendy?"

"Didn't come in today. And I pay her more than Soos! Kids these days are so lazy! I had to send Dipper over to her house to get her!" Stan groused, throwing his hands up into the air.

Mabel found that odd; Wendy may always be late, but she never didn't just show up. "Maybe she's sick?"

"She's only been sick once and she called in to tell me-well Soos, since he picked up-but she hasn't even bothered to do that!"

"Oh."

He frowned at her. "Why you sound so down?"

"I...I feel like...I don't know." Mabel realized, honestly not knowing why. That difficult to place scent seemed to linger throughout the air and she couldn't help but wonder where it was coming from.

"Look, Mabel, if this is about the whole fostering thing, then I can't."

She gazed up at him, with large chocolate eyes, fully distracted from the scent now. "You did it for my dad though."

He gulped and avoided her gaze. "That was a mistake."

"...you regret helping my dad?"

What Mabel was unaware of though, was her great-uncle's guilt for his family. He regretted not being there when his own father had a heart attack and died, while he decided to play at the junkyard with his long forgotten friends, instead of hanging out with him on his own birthday. He regretted that he hid from his mother after he moved from the house, though she attempted many times to reach out for him, and she passed in her sleep. He regretted never loving his brother more and actually telling him how much he loved him. He regretted letting his sister-in-law take Alex away and not helping her heal from her lost. One that seemed to hurt more than anything was waiting too long to get to know his nephew and ending up having the teenager hate him and be bitter with the world. He mucked up that year horribly, never quite knowing what to do, except to tease him in an effort to be the fun uncle, which backfired. "Kid, I never helped him."

"But, he's ok. He never died and my dad is happy. If you never helped him, then he would of never been happy. Losing grandma could of ruined my dad, but it didn't, because you were there Grunkle Stan, you were there."

"Your pops being happy and not dead is all his own doing. In fact, he's the reason I'm not dead. I nearly died, but he saved my butt."

"What? You almost died?" Mabel asked, clearly stunned.

He rolled his eyes. "More times than I can count. But, this time there were these freakin' teenagers during the Woodstick Festival that nearly ran me down, but your pops saved me from becoming roadkill."

"Wow..."

"Yeah, yeah, anyways I think I'm actually going to close, cause it's raining and no one ever comes when it is."

As Stan went to the door, opening it and taking the sign down, lighting struck distantly in the forest. Moments later, power went out. "Honeysuckle! Must of hit that generator..."

When he turned, to address Mabel in the dimmed area, he realized she was gone. "Mabel?" There was no reply and Stan was left wondering if had made the the right decision in denying the notion of fostering Gideon Gleeful. And in his wondering, he suddenly realized it was the anniversary of Melissa Corduroy's death. He pressed his face into the palm of his hands, groaning softly. "Why the hell did Alex save my sorry ass?"

_~!23-8-25/1-13/9/19-2-9-12-12/23-18-9-20-9-14-7/20-8-5-19-5!~_

When Dipper had decided to return to the Mystery Shack, despite the Corduroy's insisting of him staying at least until the storm to passed, he went anyways. With a borrowed flashlight and jacket in tow, he hurried home through the rain, knowing Stan would wonder where he was. The sky was illuminated by the flash of lighting and a few moments later, a rumble followed. Dipper wiped at his face, finding it increasingly difficult to see. He didn't know much about how heavy the rain could become in Oregon, but it seemed worse than California storms at the moment. He wished he accepted the umbrella Wendy offered him, knowing it was foolish to not believe the rain would become thicker. His vision was so encumbered, that he never saw the log in front of him.

The brunet released a yelp as he lurched forward, flashlight flying from his hand, and falling into the mud, the side of his head hitting an exposed tree root. Though it darkened as he lost consciousness, his dream began in a blink of an eye.

He was leaving his room in Piedmont, home alone, heading down the hallway. He had been hearing strange noises inside his room, similar to those he's been hearing in the house for a couple of months. They had been louder than ever before though and he desperately wanted to call his parents, even though he knew they would be busy at work. And, with Mabel at Art club, nobody was there to make him feel safe. As he headed down the hall, intending on using a phone, he thought he heard distant, old timely music. He was so distracted by it, he never saw the whisper in his ear coming. "_Die._"

Dipper jerked forward, spun around on his heel, and observed the area behind him. Nothing was there, which terrified Dipper even more than the idea of seeing anyone there in the first place. What he couldn't ever been prepared for, was the scratch across the face that followed. He screamed, staggering back, clenching at his bloody cheek. "_DIE._"

He ran, as fast as he could, but an invisible force grasped his ankle and he fell, face first, in the carpet. He immediately shot up, sprinting down the hall, glancing over his shoulder, and halting as he realized he had arrived at the staircase. Dipper gazed back to them and he was abruptly shoved.

As he fell backwards, his eyes caught glimpse of a golden glow, and his back slammed in the first steps of the wooden staircase. His body was flipped over moments later and he had the wind completely knocked out of him as his chest hit the stairs. When he flipped over once more, his leg was caught in the metal railing and he screamed as his leg bone was snapped in half from the force. He reached out instinctively, for the railing to cease his fall, his hand firmly grasping hold. His wrist popped out of place from the rest of body, which had continued to move, and when his hand was flung from the railing, it smacked into the wooden step and he cried out from the crack it produced. He missed the final few steps, and fell onto the floor, back first. His head bounced off the title, and stars were in his vision.

He stared up the stairs, knowing nothing be there, though the image of a bluish glow burned before his eyes and he thought he heard a whisper. "_...ruined_ _everything!_" His head sluggishly turned to his left side, finding blood pooling around his face, warm and thick. He gasped for breath, finding it difficult to absorb air into his lungs. The brunet's body was battered from head to toe, tears welling as he felt every bit of it. Knowing he would always be alone, his eyes closed, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Dipper opened his eyes, finding himself on his chest, cheek pressed against the mud, face staring to the the unsaturated forest, he spotted the frozen rain, frozen as though someone had paused its movement. A golden glow caught his attention and he realized it was the same one from the staircase. "...You pushed me down the stairs."

Bill Cipher seemed eerie in the darkened forest and he couldn't help but wonder how long he had been out. "_I needed you to stop Jill._"

"I could of died."

"_You were going to anyways. Your destiny was to die at 16-years-old, hanging yourself with your dad's necktie from your bedroom's ceiling fan._"

Dipper's eyes welled with tears. "W-Why?"

There was a chuckle. "_You know why; you were unnecessary to my wheel, though your death would kick start it._"

"I d-don't u-understand."

"_Pine Tree, destiny called for you to die at that age and for Mabel to leave for Gravity Falls, her destiny to unfold._"

"I n-never came to G-Gravity F-Falls?"

"_No, you were never meant to set foot in this town, yet Jill messing with my wheel caused me to intervene to cease her own plans. If I never made you fall, you would of continued on how you were, never stepping foot in the hospital, and killed yourself._"

"But, I-I...I don't f-feel...I d-don't think I w-want to k-kill myself a-anymore." Dipper choked out thickly. Bill didn't reply to that, black pupil boring into his own eyes. Then, it occurred to Dipper. The dream demon wasn't supposed to care about him, yet...yet...It nearly seemed as he did, in his own twisted way he seemed to care. He was using Dipper, but he actually cared about him. He didn't want him to die, he wanted him to actually live. He was using him, but he never wanted him to die in the first place. When he disappeared though, that was when Dipper realized it wasn't so dark out after all, the forest's lost saturation had made it seem all much more so.

_~!-?-!~_

"I'll do it."

Mabel blinked, finding herself laying on her bed in the dark. She frowned and turned her head to the left, finding a lantern glowing, held by Stan. "Grunkle Stan? Do what?"

"I'll foster the kid."

Mabel shot up and stared at him in awe. "W-What?"

"You heard me. When the storm passes, I'll go to the hospital."

She jumped off the bed and all but flung herself at the elder man, who stumbled back a step. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thankyou, thankyouthan-"

"Ok, ok! Now, get off me!" He grumbled, attempting to shove her away.

Mabel released her grumpy great-uncle and began to giggle. "Sorry, I'm just soooo happy! Oh, Gideon is going be like another brobro an-"

"I'm fostering him, not adopting him, and I'm your uncle, so that wouldn't make him your broth-"

"-d were gonna read magazines and talk about boys an-"

"You do realize he's a boy, right? And, I'm pretty sure the kid likes girls, not bo-"

"-d we're gonna hang out in the forest with Dipper a-Oh! Where is he? Is Dipper still trying to find Wendy? I have to tell him!"

Stan frowned, looking down at his wrist watch. "Actually, he's been gone for a couple of hours."

"Wait, what time is it?"

"12:02 and I sent him out around 9."

"What? What d-"

They heard the front door open, letting in a thunderous rumble of lightning from the front door, then it slamming shut. Mabel bolted from the room and Stan followed, at a slower pace. By the time he arrived downstairs, she was helping a drenched Dipper take off his mud caked coat. There was a trail of blood dripping down from his forehead, which irritated Stan. "How do you keep getting yourself hurt?"

Dipper smiled, which was a mystery in itself, and he began to take off his vest. "I guess it's my payment for longer life."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Stan asked, looking at him as though he had lost his mind.

The brunet didn't answer though, simply began to take off his waterlogged shoes and socks. Mabel stared at the jacket, wondering where had come from, and then at her hands, as though they were drenched in anything other than water. "Where did you get this, Dipping Sauce?"

"Wendy's brother lent it to me. I did have a flashlight, but I fell and lost it."

Stan figured the blood was from his fall and stepped out of the room, heading to the downstairs bathroom for first aid supplies. He could hear the twins continuing the conversation. "You scared me, Dipper."

"Sorry, I was talking to Wendy though."

"Where is she anyways? Grunkle Stan says she didn't show up for work."

"Oh, well, uh, her mom d-died today a few years ago, so..."

"Oh my god, no wonder she didn't..."

Stan cringed, feeling awful about forgetting that event in the first place. The whole town had buzzed about it and there was even rumors that Manly Dan had done it, considering his temper at times. There were many things Stan had regretted in his life, but telling off anyone he had overheard saying that weren't one of them. Sure, he had gone to jail overnight for getting in a fight about it, but it had been worth it. He wouldn't ever admit, but he had a soft spot for Manly Dan, recalling those times he had been Little Danny and gone around swinging his ax at Stan. Stan paused as he grabbed the first aid kit from underneath the sink. One of the jugs of wooden floor cleaner was missing a lid and he found that odd, considering he always properly sealed them. He pulled the heavy jug and peaked inside, discovering it to be completely empty, when he had sent Soos to buy it at the store about a week ago. "What the hell?"

He scratched at his chin, frowning. Stan had no excuses to explain how this had happened and he exited the bathroom, empty jug and first aid kit in hand. "Either of you two touch this floor cleaner?"

They gave him puzzled looks and Mabel answered what both had been wondering. "What would we even do with that?"

"Hmmm, you're right...anyways, I should check if that needs stitches."

He placed the empty jug on the ground and removed a wipe from the kit. He squatted down before Dipper, knees creaking in protest. Stan removed the soaked hat pushed his bangs to the side, revealing his birthmark. He wiped at the forehead, while Dipper hissed in protest. "Ow! You're pushing too hard!"

"Stop you're whining," He replied, revealed the cut on his forehead. It didn't appear that deep, but the the first layer of skin seemed to be missing in that area. "Not too bad..."

He pressed a band aid over it. "Now, go take a shower."

Dipper frowned. "Ugh, do I have to?"

"Go!"

He moaned and began his trek up the stairs. He froze halfway up though and turned his head to Stan. "Wendy didn't come in, bec-"

"I remember and I ain't mad her. Now, go take a shower," Dipper swallowed thickly and nodded once, before heading up the rest of the staircase. Stan gazed to the the diamond shaped window of the door beside him. "Looks like it stopped raining. Gonna head over to the hospital."

Mabel smiled, not able to hide her excitement. "I forgot to tell Dipper!"

She bolted up the stairs and a moment later there was a yelp. "MABEL, GET OUT OF HERE! I'M NOT WEARING A SHIRT!"

_~!-?-!~_

When Stan arrived at the hospital, sitting in the Stanley Mobile, he nearly pulled out of the parking lot. His hands were tightly gripping the wheel and the image of a teenaged Alex Pines swam before his eyes. A voice he hadn't heard in over 20 years screamed throughout his mind. "_I hate you! I hate you and I hate my deadbeat father! If it wasn't for you two my mom would be alive and happy! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!_"

He laid his forehead on the top of the steering wheel and muttered to himself. "What am I getting myself into...?" Stan entered the hospital and approached the lady at the front desk. "You know where Dr. Thompson is?"

The desk lady, plump and young, didn't even look up from the computer she was typing on, as she picked up the phone next to her and dialed a number. "Dr. Thompson? Yes, Stanley Pines is here and he wants to speak to you...alright."

She hung up and returned to typing. "He'll be up in a moment; he's currently with a patient."

Stan nodded and leaned against the counter, patiently waiting. A few minutes later the doctor showed up. "Stan."

"Dick, uh, Mabel told me Gideon Gleeful needed a foster parent."

Dr. Thompson appeared surprised. "Uh, yes. Please, let's go to my office."

As the pair headed down the hallway, Stan felt a pair of eyes watching him, and he caught view of frightened blue eyes as they passed Gideon Gleeful's room. Stan was left wondering how long it would take the jury to decide the fate of one Barney Grievous. And after being in Dr. Thompson's office for an hour, Stan had done it; he had filled out the application and within two hours of turning it in, the child services agency called him and approved of it. He couldn't help but wonder if it had to do with the fact that he had Richard Thompson on his side with the matter or that he had simply had luck on his side, but he had done it. He just hoped this wouldn't end up with Gideon screaming his hate at the world.

The hospital would be keeping the 10-year-old one more night, for them to prepare him to move to the Shack and for Stan to get it ready. He had thought it would be difficult locating bed space for him, but Mabel offered to be in his brother's old room, which he hesitantly agreed with. He could barely tolerate Soos in there, but Mabel being in there made it much more difficult to accept, knowing her to be too curious for her own good. Dipper and Gideon would be sharing the attic, which surprised him how readily his great-nephew had agreed with the arrangement. The best part of this whole fostering arrangement, was that the child services decided to give him support stipend for each month Gideon was to be there. He had been sent up with the same affair back in 1992, when he had fostered Alex for a year, so he already knew what he could and couldn't do with the money.

What was really concerning him at the moment, was the way to treat him after everything that had occurred. In the beginning, Gideon had basically been Little Danny all over again, but after awhile he nearly seemed obsessive with one-uping Stan. In the end, he assumed this Jill Rephic demon was the one influencing him to do so, but Stan had never met her until that night, so why she wanted to mess with him was beyond any reason, but he guessed that was one more mystery to add to his life. Gideon may still see Stan as hostile though and that concerned him. That, and the fact that he's nearly as tall as Barney Grievous, making him seem as more of a threat due to his size.

The twins though, they seemed excited to be able to live with Gideon. He could tell even Dipper was excited about it, since there seemed to be a cheery light in his eyes, not tainted with that typically anxious look. He supposed if they were happy, then he could deal with the situation. Now all he had to do to make their lives better, was to figure out how to pull them from their contracts. What he was unaware of, was that Bill knew perfectly well what he was thinking at the moment. He floated, invisibly near the man, who was flipping through the recovered journal from Wendy's house, for an answer. The dream demon knew no answers were held in there and that he would never find them on his own. Stan rubbed at his chest and frowned. "...Cipher?"

The elder man would usually do that if he lingered too long in a certain distance to him, as though his heart could feel the presence of who had inhabited its body once before. "Cipher, if you don't leave those kids alone, I swear to God..."

Bill didn't respond and didn't intend on doing so. What was more important at the moment, was that Stanley Pines was trapped in a single room in the Reverse Shack, barricading the door against what wished to eat him. Technically speaking, he could halt this, but didn't need to break destiny anymore. He was already going to receive punishment for Dipper, he just knew it...What the dream demon would do instead, would to be lead the siblings to the portal, so that the process may be sped up. All he would have to do is wait for that Northwest child to show up, before he would make his move for the wheel...

_~!-?-!~_

Around four or so, the rain had picked up once more, though not as heavy as before. From the forest, emerged a fashionably dressed preteen, with a clear umbrella in tow. Her maroon pea coat went well with her dark tights and her rain boots. The first time she had come by the house, she had attempted to hide her face with a bandanna and sunglasses, but this time she didn't bother to do so. She no longer cared if someone saw her blonde locks and green eyes, identifying her as Pacifica Northwest, in such an area of town. As she approached the porch, she closed her umbrella and tapped her boots against the wooden floor in an effort to remove the mud caked on them. She undid the first few buttons of the coat and revealed the journal she had found underneath her pillow, pulling it out. Pacifica had read it from cover to cover, finding it fascinating that Gravity Falls was stockful of the supernatural and wondered how she had missed so much of it. She wished she had discovered it earlier, so she could have more time to explore, but it was all too late now.

The blonde knocked upon the door, and a few moments later it was swung open, revealing Dipper. He frowned at her and then his eyes widened as he saw the book held to her chest. "Is tha-?"

"I found it in my bed and I don't really know how it got there." She told him awkwardly, handing it to him.

He studied and seemed to deflate. "This one was my Grunkle Stan's, not mine."

"Wait, there's more than that?"

"Yeah, didn't you see the number?" Dipper teased.

Pacifica didn't seem to want to tease back though and she shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. "Oh."

He frowned. "Pacifica, what's wrong?"

She seemed nervous and unusually unconfident. "I...I'm leaving."

"Uh, ok? I'll see you around then?"

"No, I mean I'll be leaving for awhile."

"Are you going on vacation or something?" He questioned, clearly confused by her behavior.

"No, I..." She gulped. "My parents are sending me away to a boarding school. In France. They don't like my 'attitude'. So, I guess this is the last time I'll see you for awhile."

"What? Wait, you're like leaving to another country?"

"Uh yeah, that's what France is." She teased lightly.

The brunet was clearly upset though, no longer in his previous teasing mood. "Your parents don't like your 'attitude'? Is it because you're actually realizing how wrong your parents are?"

"Dipp-"

"Ugh, this is actually my fault, isn't it?" He groaned, feeling self-loathing.

"No, Dipper, it's not. I would of probably ended up realizing they were wrong later, even if you weren't here. It's not your fault and I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I'm going."

"But, they can't do this to you!"

"Yes they can; they're my parents," She replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Look, Dipper, you can't help everyone."

"You're my friend though, Pacifica, and I can't just let this happen!" He cried, anxiety flaring.

"Well, you're going to have to, because there's no way out of this," She informed him, then hesitantly reached out for his hands. He gave her a startled look, then let her grasp hold, anxiety somewhat reduced. She squeezed them and smiled. "I wanted to thank you, Dipper."

"Thank me? I can't even help you! Why are you thanking me?" Dipper asked, feeling angry at himself.

"For you and your sister opening my eyes. If...If it wasn't for you guys I may of gone a long time, before I realized how wrong my parents are. I also wanted to thank you two for...for wanting to be my friends for me, and not just for my money." Pacifica informed him, eyes welling with tears.

"I-I'm sorry."

"I'll be ok. I'll just send you Pines some letters and maybe I'll call."

She tugged her hands away from his own and began to leave. "W-Wait! Don't y-you want to say b-bye to M-Mabel?"

The blonde paused in mid-step and glanced over her shoulder at him, an indescribable look on her face. "I-I can't."

Dipper watched as she disappeared in the damp forest, feeling a sense of anger towards Gravity Falls. He tightly squeezed the journal, before slamming the door shut, against the town, and against the thickening rain. He was unaware of the dream demon floating in the yard, staring after the young Northwest in the forest. "Little Miss Llama will discover her true potential in France, as will Gideon with the Pines..."

_Chapter 19 End_

**I'm on a roll with these updates! Honestly, I'm becoming excited for the new episode coming up in July and it seems to be motivating me to update new chapters as soon as possible. The next chapter will feature Gideon settling in and Bill Cipher further involving himself in destiny.  
**


	21. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Gideon Charles Gleeful goggled at the Mystery Shack before him, realizing how much different it appeared to be to him now. When he had been influenced by Jill Rephic he felt much more powerful and everything around him was dwarfed compared to him. Now, it seemed everything and everyone towered over his own stature. It seemed as though the Shack had been added to that alternative view now. At the moment, he was attempting not to flinch away from the case worker's hand on his shoulder. He shifted away from her hand, and he felt it skim over the back of his backpack, before dropping down. "Everything will be fine, doll."

He cringed, before threaded his hand through his side-combed hair, finding it strange that was much shorter now, and less work to form compared to a bob. "...o-ok..."

She guided him to the front door, avoiding direct physical contact with his body, and knocked twice upon it. He tucked in the hem of his white button-up, pulling down his royal blue cardigan over it. He was dressed warmly for the weather being around 90 degrees at the moment, but it didn't affect him all that much. As long as he didn't ever wear a suit ever, again, he felt fine being slightly warm. He gulped as the door swung inwards, revealing an awkward appearing Stan in his Mr. Mystery costume. "Mr. Pines? I've been informed you and Gideon are already acquainted?"

"Yeah, Miss Cox, you could say that." Stan uncharacteristically and politely responded, eyebrows raising as he saw how the 10-year-old had a makeover.

"Mrs.," She corrected. Slacks and cardigans were not a summer choice, but Gideon figured since Stan wore a suit, then he had no reason to justify his choice of fashion...Or did he? He began to sweat from nerves at the thought, missing what the case worker was speaking about. "And your house as been deemed as safe for a child?"

"Yeah, it should be right there in those files of your's." Stan's less polite side crept out a bit, yet she seemed to not take notice.

"And all the paperwork has been filled out?"

"Yeah, you probably have it on you right now."He answered, obviously becoming slightly annoyed.

"Alright, I'll return in 15 days, to see how's he settling in," She told him, before turning to Gideon and squatting down. "Now, I know you're nervous, but everything will be alright, doll."

Gideon shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Mrs. Cox. She reached out to pat his shoulder, but decided against it when he flinched at her extended hand. She stood, waving as she went, before speeding off in her silver SUV. The freckled boy hoped that she wouldn't linger in his mind much longer or the word 'doll' will continue to make him squirm. Stan shifted uncomfortably and stepped inside, waving to the door. "Just, uh, come inside."

The 10-year-old stepped in, legs quaking as he followed the man up the stairs. "You'll be in the attic, with Dipper."

"O-Ok."

They entered the attic, discovering Dipper flipping through the journal Pacifica had returned to him yesterday. He glanced up and smiled a bit at Gideon. "Hi."

"H-Hi."

"I'll let you to it then." Stan awkwardly told him, leaving the pair in the attic.

"Your bed is right there," Dipper told him, pointing to the opposite side of the room. A rugged, yet clean, pair of forest green blankets were laid there, along with a white pillow. He plopped down on it, feeling quite out of place, before unzipping his backpack. Dipper closed the journal and made his way over to the opposite side of the room. "You can use the top self of that drawer for your stuff. Is, uh, that all you have in there?"

Gideon nodded shyly, removing the matching set of royal blue pajamas out, setting them inside the drawer. He studied the drawer below, finding it cracked open and parts of clothes spilling out, obviously overfilled. He placed his hair comb inside as well and a few pairs of black socks. He removed a battered copy "Where the Red Fern Grows" and rubbed a thumb across the cover. It had been a novel his mother had gotten before he was even born and had read to him when before she had begun to become unstable. Gideon delicately sent in there, before cramming in a can of hairspray, and staring at the bottom of his backpack. He glanced up at Dipper, who was back to reading the journal once more, and removed the American Flag pin. It had been a gift from his father, the first year Gideon had become famous, and he didn't have the heart to throw it away. He gulped and threw it into the drawer, before slamming it shut.

"Your, um, sweater is nice." Dipper commented, not even glancing up from his journal, though Gideon could tell he was feeling awkward about the whole living in the same room together situation. He was clearing making an attempt at small-talk at the moment and he couldn't blame him for that.

"T-Thank y-you..."

It was at that moment that a cry echoed throughout the building. "GIDDDDD-EI-ONNNNNN!"

The distant sound of Mabel's voice caused both of the boys to cringe and a moment later, the door was flung open, the hyperactive brunette launching herself at her friend. He nearly lost his balance as the taller one almost knocked him over and tensed when he realized she was hugging him. "M-Mabel!"

She leaned back, giggling into his face. His fear of being so close to another must of shown on his face, for her giggling ceased, and her smiled dropped. She released him and stepped back. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that."

He felt guilty that he did that to her and let his eyes fall to the floor. There was an awkward silence, that Dipper surprisingly broke. "D-Do you want to see the room Mabel's going to be in, Gideon?"

He glanced up at the twins, discovering Mabel's ear-to-ear grin had returned. "You're gonna love it! It belonged to one of the coolest people I've ever met! Isn't that right, Dipping Sauce?"

She nudged her brother, painfully, in the ribs. "Ow! That hurt!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby! Come on, Gideon!" She reached out for him, taking his sleeve, avoiding direct contact with him. The freckled child felt alright with the way she had gripped him and found it odd that she knew how to grab him without scaring him now. Mabel tugged him from the room and he followed her, with Dipper in the rear. Mabel barreled down the stairs, causing Gideon to nearly lose balance. He glanced over his shoulder, at Dipper, finding to him to be standing at the top of the staircase. He caught a glimpse of something akin to fear on the 13-year-old's face, but he was around the corner before he could wonder what was wrong with Dipper. They soon entered a hallway, full of doors, and his legs ceased movement. Mabel frowned at him, hand still connected to his sleeve. "Gideon?"

His eyes roved about the hall and he released a whimper. "C-Can w-we l-leave?"

"What? What's wrong?"

Someone was watching them. "F-Feels w-wrong."

"What does?" There was a shudder of wet, hot breath drooled down his neck and he yelped. He lunged forward, desperately clinging to Mabel's arm for protection, with an iron grip. "Gideon? Please, I won't know what's wrong unless you tell me."

"J-Just t-take m-me t-to t-the ro-roo-roooo-rooo-" Gideon stuttered out, unable to finished the sentence.

Mabel frowned and observed the area around her, tensing as she the fainest outline of something looming behind Gideon. She grasped his arm gently, ignoring the rapid beating of her own heart. "We're almost there."

"D-Dipper?"

Mabel paused. "_Oh_. Oh, no, where is he?"

"S-Stairs."

A stricken look crossed her face. "Stairs? He stopped when we went down the stai-?" The brunette tensed, realizing that the outline seemed to be directly behind her friend. She gulped and delicately placed the palms of her hands on his shoulders. He trembled beneath her and she knew that in some way of form he could sense it. "Gideon, on the count of three, we're going to walk away, like it isn't even there."

"B-But, D-D-Dipp-Dippp-"

"He's fine. He's not coming. He's stuck at the stairs. Grunkle Stan will probably find him, so he's going to be ok. Do you understand?"

"S-Stuck?"

"Don't worry, ok? Everything is going to be ok. It can't touch you, because it's not in this dimension. Everything is fine."

Gideon gazed into her chocolate eyes and found himself nodding, trusting her assertions. "O-Ok."

"1..." A pant.

"2..." A wet feeling on the back of his neck.

"3!" He took a deep breath and stepped forward, Mabel behind him, the palms of her hands continuing to rest upon his shoulders.

"Keep going." She encouraged him and he marveled at the courage of one Mabel Pines, wondering why he couldn't be as brave as her. "It's the door at the end."

The hairs on the back of his stood on end, as though they were being stalked by it. He didn't know what it was, but he knew Mabel was correct in her statement that it was from another dimension, not quite there, but enough to be felt. Did she feel it? Did she feel those shivers and sensations? There was something she had to notice, in order to know it was there, but his mouth couldn't form words, so, he let her guide him to the last door. She reached over his shoulder, opening the door, before nudging him inside. Mabel closed the door, without even turning around, and it finally occurred to him. "Y-You c-could s-see i-it."

The brunette studied him. "You could feel it."

Neither confirmed these accusations, but neither needed to, as there connection clicked into place, and there hands were now joined. They were only part of a trio though, and Dipper would have to complete them. Their hands dropped from one another within moments. Then, the door opened. Neither of them were startled though, as they knew who it was. "I-I could hear it."

"_Well, well, well, it seems the three of you finally realized your connection._" Bill Cipher crooned, appearing in the room before the trio.

"Y-Your wheel; we're o-on it." Dipper replied, knowing he was correct as the dream demon's laugh echoed throughout the unsaturated room.

Gideon was afraid of everyone at the moment, everyone, but Bill Cipher. He knew what he could do and he knew how to prepare himself if anything does go wrong. Humans, humans had become completely unpredictable to them though and he found it difficult to trust most of them any longer. After all, wouldn't a human saved him and his mother from his father? Gideon could predict what was to be said next, without even stuttering. "We're your favorites."

"_Yesss, it seems as though you've all noticed that I've told you all that,_" The twins looked to one another, with surprise, then to Gideon. "_You three are my favorites, because you are the most powerful on my wheel._"

Mabel didn't seem to be as convinced as the others though. "What do you mean by that? You keep telling us about your wheel, but what does that mean? And what do you mean by most powerful?"

Bill laughed. "_Oh boy, Shooting Star, you need to loosen up, stop all the unbelieving questions. You don't want to be a downer your whole life! Trust me._"

Mabel clenched her jaw. "I...I'm not a downer, I just want to know."

"_Oh, fine, fine,_" A projection of a wheel appeared behind him, symbols surrounding his body. He pointed to his left. "_A shooting star._"

"Ok? And what does that mean?" Dipper asked, seeing his sister's skeptical side to this all.

"_That Shooting Star is on my wheel,_" He pointed to the bottom, right hand corner. "_A pine tree._"

"Dipper?" Mabel questioned, finding the wheel becoming a bit clearer, and finding this whole situation a bit less skeptical.

"_Yes, and finally, Jill._" Bill continued, pointing to the space next to Dipper's.

Gideon paled, recalling the folded up cape he had left behind at his house, the one with Jill on it. "M-Me."

The dream demon gave a slow clap. "_Congrats, kiddos, you did it. And every wheel has the three strongest and you three just so happen to be them._"

"Wait, but what the others?" Mabel questioned.

"_Oh, come now, I thought you were smarter than that, Shooting Star._"

While Mabel appeared nearly infuriated at the triangle, she kept it under control. Dipper was thoughtful about her question though. He eyed the other symbol and found one to be quite familiar. He gasped aloud. "The question mark! You called Soos that when we were in Grunkle Stan's head!"

"_Bingo! See? Pine Tree is smart enough for this!_"

Dipper blushed at the unexpected compliment, but then frowned, realizing his twin had also been insulted. Mabel seemed to puff up a bit at that statement and then smiled. "Ok, fine. I'll play your game."

The dream demon snapped his fingers, causing three podiums with buzzers to appear before the trio, and a microphone in his left hand. Another snap, caused a flashy game show sign labelled "Cipher's Wheel" to appear above his head, lights flashing a assortment of colors. Mabel slammed her buzzer, causing it to release a hi-pitched noise. "The heart is Robbie and the glasses are Grunkle Stan!"

A noise of rejection exploded within the room. "_Oh, I am sooooo sorry, you're only half-way there; the heart is correct, but try again when it comes to your uncle!_"

"T-The m-moon." Another buzzer went off when Gideon answered, receiving startled looks at the fact he had spoken from all, but the dream demon.

"_Oh, it seems we have a new contestant chimed in! And our new contestant is correctttttt!_"

"Well, then the glasses have to be Grandpa Stanley!" Mabel cried, bashing her buzzer.

"_Unfortunately, no, that is not correct either!_"

There was an awkward silence, before a dawning look appeared on her face, and she pressed the button. "Grandpa Stanley has six fingers!"

"_Yes, that makes him the hand! And it seems that Shooting Star is currently in the lead! Now, here comes the trickier ones, the glasses, the ice, and the llama!_" Once more, there was an awkward silence, before Bill sighed aloud. "_You each can have one hint, per symbol! The first hint, involving the llama; they are seen as_ _symbols known to have the ability to carry burdens!_"

After a moment, Dipper had a grave look on his face as he pressed the buzzer. "It's Pacifica; she's been able to put up with the burden of her family's name."

Mabel appeared stricken at this reminder and by the fact that she wouldn't be in Gravity Falls much longer. "_Youuuu are correct Pine Tree! Next hint, involving_ _the ice! Being seen as coldhearted in the face of danger, they will melt w-_"

The brunette shook her head from thoughts of her blonde friend and smashed her buzzer, knowing that she had the answer. "WENDY!"

"_You are correcttttt! Now, this last one is all or nothing! This meatsack has been involved with the beginning of my wheel's movement, though they likely aren't aware of it!_" There seemed to be no answer for this one though, even with a hint, and Bill Cipher shook his head in disappointment. "_You've all seen him before_ _and have been involved with him in some way._"

"I...I don't know." Mabel answered, the excitement visibly drained from the trio.

"_Well then, it seems as though our little game show will be put on pause until we get an answer,_" He informed them, snapping his fingers, to make the podiums, microphone, and game show sign to vanish into thin air. "_In the mean time, I will leave you three with this; A 1, B, C 3._"

And, he was gone.

_~!-?-!~_

Barricading the door wouldn't defend himself from _them_, Stanley just knew it. He had heard_ them_ in the hallway who knew how long ago and now they were on the staircase leading up to the attic. Once they reached the landing, all they would have to do would be stride across it, and be at the door. He glared down at his father's war shotgun and threw it across the room, suddenly realizing it wouldn't protect him. "Goddammit!"

There was a tense silence, before the door was bashed into, causing the frame to shudder behind his back. Stanley jolted, releasing a gasp of shock, and stumbled away from the door. There was another bash, causing the frame to shudder once more, and he backed into the table by the window. Another bash, causing splinters to appear along the frame. Another and another. His hands clenched onto the table behind him and the door was partly cracked in half. A shiver ran down his spine, as a gnarled, distorted hand reached in, flickering in and out of existence. Stanley Pines clenched his eyes shut and whispered. "I'm sorry, Stanford..."

The handle was twisted open from the inside by the hand, causing the door to swing open.

_Chapter 20 End_

**So, back is chapter 14, I had made Bill Cipher call Stanley "Glasses", which I had honestly not intended to write. He is supposed to be "Hand" and I have now corrected that mistake. Another mistake for that chapter, was that for the list of missing characters on Bill's wheel, before his wheel was changed by Jill Rephic, had one missing. That character is "Red" and Bill said they were dead. Now that I've fixed these mistakes, the plot will make more sense. We will soon get to the whole "Glasses" character, but I'm fairly certain you readers can already take a shot in the dark about who they are. And, as always, reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!  
**


	22. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

"Do you really think it's really in the journals?" Mabel questioned, taking one of the journals from her brother.

The trio were gathered in the dining room, pouring over the journals the day after Bill Cipher had appeared. While Mabel and Dipper had opened their own journals, Gideon awkwardly sat in-between the pair of them. He had the feeling if he asked to be involved with the research, he would be denied, though he couldn't complain, since he didn't want anything more to do with demons. "It has to be, Mabel, where else could the code be?"

"I don't know, but Bill always says weird stuff like that and it could be him messing with us." She replied, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand, elbow on the table.

"I don't think it is though; I think it has something to do with the wheel or whatever he calls it."

"If you say so, Dip-Dop." The brunette began to leaf through the journal, frowning in concentration.

"...not in the book..." Gideon whispered, mostly to himself.

It seems as though Mabel had heard his comment though, for she glanced up after he mumbled. "What? What did you say, Gideon?"

He blushed at the attention they were both giving him now. "Urm... um...n-not i-in t-the b-book..."

"Wait, how do you know that?" Dipper asked, appearing skeptical.

He shrugged, unable to fully understand the feeling boiling underneath his skin. "I-I s-sense i-it."

"Well, sounds good enough to me!" Mabel slammed her journal shut, grinning.

"Wait, wait, hold on, t-that...t-that...doesn't mean anything! He hasn't even look at all of the journals!"

"Dipper! We already know Gideon can feel things, just like how I can see things and you can hear. I thought we agreed on this yesterday after talking to Bill!"

"Ok, I-I don't really k-know if we're s-s-special or anyth-"

"This is just like with Grandpa Stanley! You don't believe in our powers and you don't believe it's him!" She cried, throwing her hands into the air.

"W-Well, w-we don't h-have any concrete p-proof it is him!"

"He looks just like Grunkle Stan!"

"I c-can't even see h-him!"

"You said he sounded like Grunkle Stan!"

"I-I never said it!"

"Yes you did!"

"Well, even if I did, it doesn't mean it's our g-grandpa!"

"It is him! How else would he know about Carla?!"

"He could of just heard of her! Besides, his version of the story was different than Grunkle Stan's!"

"Let's go ask him for the truth then!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The twins threw the journals onto the table and sprinted off to the store front, calling for their great-uncle all the way. The 10-year-old was left behind in the dining room with the journals. Barely a moment passed, before his hand lashed out and grasped onto Stan's one. He practically tore the cover off as he opened it and glanced over the first page, finding new material he had never laid his eyes upon. A familiar feeling churned within him and he smiled. The constant fear, drilling itself in the back of his mind eased away, and he felt soothed by the familiar handwriting. Then, it came to him, the feeling of hunger. "Oh..._Oh_."

The vending machine. The vending machine had to do with the code they had been told. What could it be though? The feelings of hunger eased away, replaced with frustration, as though with working with a difficult task and a gnawing boredom deep underneath. What? What did that mean? School. Numbers and letters. The code? Yes, it was the code. The keypad. The keypad on the vending machine was the answer. The code was on the keypad! Gideon felt a surge of pride, which was unusual in itself since had been out of Jill's contract, and realized he needed to let his friends know that the vending machine was the solution to the code. Of course they would have to wait until after dark to investigate, as not to cause Stan or customers to have their attention attracted to them. He knew from the twins that Stan was hiding a number of things and that he wasn't to be told about how deeply involved they were with the demon, though he was on the same wheel as them. The only things he knew at the moment, was that they were in contracts with Bill and that they had powers.

He headed to the store front, journal clenched to his chest. As he entered, he suspected he would feel less confident with the amount of people in his room, yet he found himself feeling the same. It seemed as though that the twins and Stan were missing from the group of tourists already present. The office must of been where they were then and he entered the doorway leading to there. The freckled boy entered, finding the twins arguing over the voice of Stan, who was beginning to appear quite angry at their actions. "Enough! I can't get in two darn words between the both of you screaming at each other!"

Usually, Gideon would of been frightened by the tone he was using, but it might of been the journal reminding him of the power he once held, for he held no fear at said tone being used. Mabel and Dipper had jolted at him bellowing though, snapping their mouths shut. "Now, what in the name of all that is holy are you two fighting about?"

"How did you really meet Carla McCorkle?!" The twins shouted in unison.

"I already told you." He simply replied, returning to his paperwork.

"Well, you told us different stories!" Mabel cried.

"If I remember right, I only told Dipper, so I don't who else you heard a story from."

"Uhhhhhhh...Old Man McGucket!" She blurted out, finding it convenient that their ages were close enough that McGucket may of heard of her.

He ceased writing and gazed up at her. "...did you just say McGucket?"

Dipper and Mabel glanced to one another, Mabel clearly regretting her answer, considering his reaction. Gideon decided now was good a time as any to interrupt. "Dipper? Mabel?"

The Pines all startled, not realizing he had been there, turning themselves to him. He clenched the journal tightly to his body, hoping that his courage wouldn't fade. He needed to break this fight up, before he heard something he wasn't meant to. "Can we have dinner?"

"We're talking later," Stan told his grand-niece, pointing a finger at her from across the desk. "And, I'll come back to make dinner when I'm done here."

Though the elder man didn't directly tell him this, opting to focus on his paper work once more, Gideon felt his hesitant tone. It was as if he was unsure on how to talk to him, even though Gideon sounded perfectly normal at the moment. Though, he knew it wouldn't last, after he lost his courage. "Ok."

"Now, everybody get out; if you all haven't noticed, I'm working!"

The moment they were in the hall, Gideon whirled around to them. "I know what the code is!"

"What? Really?!" Dipper exclaimed.

"What is it, what is it?!" Mabel cried, jumping up and down.

"The vending machine!"

"Wait, what?" Dipper asked.

"The numbers and letters on the vending machine."

"Oh my god!" The brunette cried, hugging the 10-year-old. "You are amazingggg!"

He felt a heat creep up his neck at Mabel's close contact, though the rest of his body felt icy, contradicting his emotions. A hand was firmly grasped the back of his heated neck and he immediately pushed her away in a state of panic. She gave him a startled look as he dropped the journal. "Gideon?"

"S-Sorry...j-just..."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot..." She muttered. Dipper didn't even seem to notice this interaction though, mumbling about the meaning of the vending machine. The freckled boy reached down for the journal, wanting his courage back, but Mabel beat him to it. "Dipping Dot, let's go!"

"W-Wait!"

They paused and turned to him, Mabel placing her hand on her hip. "And why not? We need to solve the code to save my grandpa."

He gulped, feeling somewhat threatened by her stance. "Ummm...S-Stanford c-could c-catch u-us..."

Mabel slapped her forehead. "Duh! Dipper, we have to wait until Grunkle Stan is asleep, so he doesn't wonder what we're doing!"

"Why do we have to wait? Let's just go right now and do it."

"You know how he'll react though; he doesn't believe that we can see Grandpa Stanley and hear him. He's more skeptic about it than you are!"

"That's right! I almost forgot!"

Mabel frowned. "...Dipper, you don't forget anything."

"...are you still hungry, Gideon?" Her brother questioned, completely ignoring her statement.

"Oh, urm, s-sure..."

"What do you want?"

"M-Me? Um, I d-don't k-know..."

"Do you like spaghetti?"

"S-Sure."

"I'll go tell my uncle." Dipper re-entered the office, avoiding the concerned faces thrown at him by Mabel.

"M-Mabel? A-Are y-you o-ok?" The freckled boy hesitantly asked.

"I'm fine...just...Dipper, he...just gets like that sometimes and...I can't really tell you, because it's up to him if he wants you to hear it or not. I'm sorry." She finished, tugging at the hem of her Waddles sweater.

He nodded once, then frowned. That was her pet pig. Waddles. That was Waddles. That pig followed her nearly everywhere, so why hadn't he seen it since arriving at the Mystery Shack? "M-Ma-"

Dipper and Stan exited the office. "I gonna get in my night clothes and then I'll make dinner," Gideon nearly cursed himself, feeling as though he would be unable to speak if he did ask her. The Pines family migrated to the kitchen, Gideon in tow. Stan pointed at Dipper, whom frowned, upon realizing he was going to be commanded to do an activity he wouldn't enjoy. "Boil a pot of water while I change."

Dipper couldn't even get a word out, before the elder man left the kitchen. He grumbled to himself, unaware that he was mirroring his great-uncle's own behavior. The freckled boy beside him looked to Mabel, intending on asking her where Waddles was, but stopped short when he witnessed her studying her hands intently. "M-Mabel?"

She startled, looking up. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"N-Nothing..." He replied, feeling as though he shouldn't ask in the end.

_~!6-9-4-4-12-5-6-15-18-4/18-5-13-5-13-2-5-18-19!~_

Later that night, the trio where gathered in the hallway leading to the store front, plunged in darkness. Though it was quite late into the night, they were intent on discovering the meaning behind the vending machine's code. "Where's your flashlight, Dip-Dop?"

"Mabel, I already told you, I have it with me, but I'm not going to turn it on yet, because if Grunkle Stan comes to the living room, he's going to see me shining it around." He grouchily replied, blindly reaching out for the door.

A pudgy hand covered his own, guiding him to the door knob. "Thanks, Gideon."

"Y-Your w-welcome..."

He twisted the handle, flooding the hallway with moonlight, and they all stepped in. The full moon was large and glowed with the eerie quality it typically didn't on a regular night. It was as though the moon was quite bright for this night as a greeting for them. The light didn't quite make contact with the vending machine though, so Dipper flashed his own light at it. "The keypad does match up with the code!"

"Press the buttons!" Mabel exclaimed.

"Shhh! And, one of the numbers that wasn't on the code, is here. If I press them all, it's not going to work." Dipper reached out, pressing all the buttons, expect with the one labelled "2".

There was a whirling within the machine, then it slid to the side, revealing a glowing secret staircase. The trio gaped in shock. "Dipper...what is this?"

"O-Oh my god, there's a secret p-p-passage in the Mystery Shack..."

Gideon appeared in awe. "Wow..."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Mabel exclaimed, grasping Gideon's shirt sleeve and Dipper's wrist. There was no hesitation from either and they were willingly guided down the stairs by the energetic brunette. The trio observed the the area surrounding them, not noticing the six-fingered hand print to their staircase creaked in protest as they made their way down them and rats in the distance released squeaks. The cobwebs were in touching distance, though weren't in their path. The distinct smell of dust surrounded them, as though it had been waiting an awful long while for their presence.

Gideon whispered, unaware he was speaking aloud. "...it's like something outta of my imagination..."

"...or a dream..." Mabel whispered back.

"...or a nightmare..." Dipper muttered to them.

Though the room was dimmed, they entered what could only be described as a control room, finding computers whirling and clicking, as if they were alive, buttons blinking out of the darkness to them. "Guys, are we dreaming? Somebody wake me up..."

"This can't be real..." Dipper appeared to be in awe.

"W-What is...?" Gideon asked, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's just like that bunker in the woods..." Dipper whispered to himself. "What is all this though?"

"Dipper," Mabel breathed out, shaking his arm, and pointing behind him. "Look."

The portal, though they were observing it through filthy glass, seemed as impressive as ever. The bright light illuminated there figures, creating endless shadows behind them. It hummed, as though calling them to come before it. And, they complied, entering the room where the portal was held, the light nearly blinding them. "Dipper...he did say portal..."

"I know...I know..." He whispered.

"T-This...is...t-the c-color..." The freckled boy whispered, trembling as he realized he recognized that bluish hue.

"What the heck are you doing down in here?" They all startled from their trances, whirling around to discover a furious Stanford Pines lingering in the entryway to the room. He approached them, pointing a shaking finger at them. "What the _hell_ are you three doing down here?"

"G-Grunkle S-" Mabel began, only to be cut off.

"Get out." He ground out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"S-Stanley is in t-there, isn't he?" Dipper asked, feeling somewhat dazed.

"GET OUT!" He bellowed, voice echoing throughout the room.

Gideon cringed violently and fell over, covering his head, as though waiting for Stan to physically hit him. He caught of glimpse of the stricken face the elder man made at his reaction and focused his eyes onto the floor, attempting to keep the memories at bay. Stricken as his mother's when Gideon was first beaten by his father, instead of her. Voice as violent and angry as his father's though. The twins were immediately crouching down next to their friend. Their hands stroked his trembling arms, attempting to pull him back, before his flashback could even begin. He was already being pulled into the darkness of his memories, not noticing his friends attempting to pull him up to a standing position. Mabel's voice sounded distant to his ears. "Gideon? Please, you're ok! Don-"

"_I'm going to bash your damn head in boy! Don't you dare ever back talk to me!_" His father echoed angrily within his head, the sound of flesh smacking onto flesh visibly loud.

"_Please, Barne-Bud! He's only four! You can't hu-_" His mother was cut off as she was violently shoved into the wall.

"_Don't tell me what to do, woman. I own you, do you understand?_" He shook her, causing the back of her head to forcibly make contact with the wall behind her and for her to cry out in pain. "_I OWN YOU!_"

"G-Gideon?" Dipper whispered, voice disrupting the darkness swirling around him, reminding him of the past.

He blinked, heaving for breath as he returned from his horrific flashback. The Pines were surrounding him, twins hugging him, while Stan was squatted in front of him, fingers barely brushing against his knee, as though not quite sure he could touch him or not. He felt Mabel gently squeeze his shoulder and Dipper's hand skimming over his back, both in comforting ways. He leaned into all of these figures touching him, craving comfort from the darkness of his memories. It was ever so steadily grounding him back to the present."I-I-"

"Hey, kid, just breath, ok? Look, I...I didn't mean to scare like that. I just sorta...lose my temper sometimes. I'm not gonna hurt you though, so can you just... breath?" Stan comforted him in his own way, though not in a way many could identify as comfort. For the first time since entering the Shack though, he felt he could actually trust Stanford Pines, if only just a little, though he still held an edge of fear in a certain way.

"O-Ok." He replied shakily, breathing deeply, the darkness withdrawing from his head.

The group was silent for a few moments, only the hum of the portal and breathing interrupting them. Gideon's royal blue eyes skimmed over the Pines, finding a type of peace deep within himself at their emotions probing at his soul, a combination of concern, fear, relief, slight anger, and peacefulness. He was interrupted from this study of them, when Stan spoke, hesitating in his wording. "Kids, I have to tell you about what happened 37 years ago."

_~!-?-!~_

In a rusting and paint peeling 1967 Ford Thunderbird, falling apart in the city dump, slept a homeless citizen that everyone knew of, yet knew not what he had done. Each breath he took inside the the vehicle, had the seats creaking beneath his weight and the windows rattling quietly. Though he had forgotten himself, he had been remembering, bits and pieces at a time. For example, the Thunderbird was the first item he and his wife had bought upon becoming married, which may explain why he deemed it as his home to occupy. Those for memories lost though, his youth a distant relic of the past.

As Old Man McGucket, he had been unnecessary to the town of Gravity Falls, seen as a nuisance by all, including his son. But, as Fiddleford McGucket, he had been a popular and successful museum curator. And, it seemed as though Fiddleford McGucket was about to return. He was jolted from his sleep, images of the older twin Pines, Bill Cipher, Jill Rephic, and Society of the Blind Eye flashing throughout his mind. "NO!"

His aged body heaved as he laid up against the vehicle's door, trembling as his memories began their return. He gazed out into the darkness of the dump, laying his head back onto the door, glimpsing a blurry star decorating sky above him. He reached into the pocket of his overalls, revealing a pair of ancient glasses, the lenses cracked. "I remember!"

He placed the frame onto his face, the star littered sky coming into focus, and he wrapped the tattered remains of his blanket around his uncontrollably shaking frame. Tears streamed unwillingly down his aged cheeks. "I-I remember..."

_Chapter 21 End_

**I hope this isn't becoming too fast-paced? Or that the plot seems all over the place? I feel like I have too many ideas for this story and having a difficult time incorporating them and I really hope this story doesn't feel forced to any of you readers. Anyways, just because Gideon feels as though he can trust Stan a bit, even though he finds it difficult to trust adults at the moment, doesn't mean they'll be on the best of terms. At this point, he doesn't feel as though Stan would hurt him like his father did, but isn't completely comfortable around him. Well, as always reviews, favorites, and followers are appreciated!  
**


	23. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Warnings included for this chapter is language.  
**

Gathered around the dining room, hot chocolate in hand by Mabel's request, they settled in for the story Stan was about to tell them. Gideon was wrapped tightly in a blanket, the twins sat on either side of him, with their great-uncle across the table. He appeared visibly uncomfortable and was passing the mug of hot chocolate between his large hands. "Ok, before we start, I just have to say one thing."

The twins glanced at one another, before nodding at him. Stan gulped a sip out of his mug, before continuing on. "Kids, you need to understand, I do everything for the sake of this family, so you need to...need to trust me."

Dipper was reminded of his half of one of the deals he was in with Bill Cipher. Trust Stan. He thought about it, wondering if he did trust the man, despite all the secrets he had held from them. Stan had become someone important in his life though and in his own unusual way cared for Dipper. And, despite his flaws, Stan wasn't a bad person when he really got down to it. "I...I trust you."

Mabel smiled. "I trust you, too, Grunkle Stan."

His lips twitched slightly upwards into a smile, clearly touched. "I really, really appreciate that, kids."

Gideon watched this exchange in awe, wondering if he could ever trust someone as much as the twins trusted their great-uncle. None of them noticed the anguished look that appeared upon his face and the unshed tears welling in his eyes, possessing the knowledge that he would be alone for what seemed to be forever. Stan nodded, continuing his story, while setting down his mug. "Ok, well I think this all started with...with Carla McCorkle..."

_~1959~_

"I've been waiting eternity for this to come out! The Mummy looks amazing!" Stanley Pines exclaimed to his brother.

Stanford Pines rolled his eyes at his twin. "This is stupid. We should of seen that new Disney movie; those are wayyy better."

"Ugh, I don't know how you can stand sissy cr-" Stanley began with a sneer.

Stanford lurched forward, someone bumping into him. "Hey, watch where you going, budd-My wallet! Come back, that's my wallet!"

The thief was already on the run though, glancing over his shoulder at the 14-year-old attempting to keep up with him. So distracted by him, he never noticed the young girl removing herself from line or her swinging her purse at him. It smacked him directly in the throat and he released a choked gasp, falling on his back and withering in agony. She loomed over him, reaching out a hand. "Kindly hand it over, please."

He wheezed and his hand extended tenderly into the air, presenting the wallet. The brunette snatched it from his hand, just as the twins arrived at the scene, with staring at her in bewilderment. "This is yours, isn't it?"

Stanley's eye twitched in irritation, angry about how no one could tell either of them apart. "No, that belongs to my brother."

"Oh, sorry about that, hon." She apologizes, handing it to the star-struck Stanford.

His hand brushed her's and she pulled away with a smile. "T-Thank you..."

"Your welcome." She replied, retrieving her place in line.

Stanley observed his dazed brother and frowned. "Don't tell me you like her? She can't even the tell the difference between us, Stanford."

"She's beautiful..." His brother breathed out. "...and really strong..."

"Stanford, you don't have a chance. Every time you go after these girls, it never wo-"

"We have to follow her!" His brother blurted out, sprinting after her as she entered the theater.

"Wait, we haven't even bought tickets yet! Stanford! Come back!" His brother cried to no avail. He had already gone in though, observing her from a distance as she bought a bag of popcorn from the concession stand. Right as he was buying his own, discreetly watching her enter a theater, his brother finally showed up, huffing with anger. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Shut up, there's nothing wrong with me, you're just super slow. Oh, she's going in! Come on, we have to follow her!" Stan grasped his twin's arm, but he wretched free with a glare.

"I bought the tickets for our movie, not her's! We're not going after h-Hey! Stanford! Stan! Come back!" He sprinted across the theater to catch up with his brother, entering the theater labelled as "Sleeping Beauty". He found his brother, in the row directly behind her and growled, settling himself next to his twin. "We are not watching this! This a sissy mov-"

"Shh!" Someone in the theater hissed and his mouth snapped shut.

There was a tense silence, before Stan leaned forward, tapping her twice on the shoulder. She whirled her head back, frowning. "Who i-You!"

Stan appeared quite sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh, s-sorry, I just wanted to, uh, tell you, you're a pretty gal, and uh, was wondering if we could do something together, just for kicks?"

"No, now leave me alone, I'm watching a movie." She whirled back around, clearly annoyed.

Stanley snorted and rolled his eyes. "See? I told you, so can we leave now?"

"No, I need to know something," He tapped her shoulder once more, this time receiving a glare. "I have a question."

"What could you possibly want?"

"I just wanna know, where did you learn that punch? You used your purse and all, but I can tell you know how to punch, like for real."

She appeared less irked now and hesitantly replied. "...I do boxing."

He blinked in surprise. "Boxing? Gals can do that?"

"Well, of course, though not many want to. My dad is a trainer though, so he taught me when I was young."

"Oh, who does he train?"

"He does classes at the YMCA for kids between five to fifteen years old."

"Wait, which location?"

"The one in Burlington County."

He laughed. "Oh my god, that's where I've been going since I was eight! I didn't even know Coach McCorkle had a daughter!"

She blinked and then giggled. "You must be Stanford Pines!"

"Yeah, you can call me Stan though. Your dad talk about me a lot?"

"Sometimes. He likes to tell how bad you were when your first started, but apparently you're really good now."

He puffed up a bit, pounding his chest. "I'm basically a pro!"

"Shh!" He blushed as he heard several people in the theater hushing him.

She giggled. "You know, maybe I will take you up on this date thing, Stan."

He blushed deeply. "D-Date? Who said anything about a d-date?"

"Well, that was what I assumed, especially since you called me pretty."

"O-Oh, of course."

"Do you want my number? I might have a pen somewhere in here..." She replied, digging through her purse, finally digging one out. "Can I see your arm, please?"

He reached his arm out and she wrote her number in a cursive scrawl. In the flickering light of the theater he observed her fair features, nearly mesmerized by them. Her pale skin glowed, chocolate eyes glowing, hair silky swept to the side. Her plump lips were tilted up into a smile, cheeks full of color, hands gentle upon his skin. She finished and he looked down at the name. Carla. "Carla."

"Yes, that's my name. I'll call you tonight, but I want to finish this movie, ok?" She turned back.

He smiled as though in a daze, before turning to his brother, fully satisfied. "We can go now."

His brother was intently watching though and he smile widened as he realized it was "Sleeping Beauty" they were watching. He laughed aloud at the thought of his twin's reaction would be when he teased him later about watching such a "sissy" movie. He nearly and completely lost it when Stanley hushed him and punched him in the arm for causing such a ruckus with his laugh.

_~1964~_

He had failed his sophomore year and dropped out of high school all together, much to his mother's disappointment. In an effort to make up for this and ease her disappointment somewhat, he had decided to work full time as an auto-mechanic in order to assist his constantly stressed mother pay for the bills, now that their father wasn't around. His brother graduated high school two years early with honors and went to local community college, Rowan College at Burlington County. Carla decided to finish off high school and when the two graduated, all three moved to an apartment near the university Stanley would attend. Carla would work full-time as a waitress, while Stan worked at an auto-shop, and Stanley did classes at Princeton University.

The day when destiny

began to move the wheel, was when Stanford had become tired of his brother's recent attitude. "Ok, Stanley, you either need to get that stick removed from your ass or finally get laid, because you're acting bitchier than usual."

"Shut up, Stanford." Stanley ground out, attempting to sort through paperwork at the kitchen table.

"No, I ain't gonna shut up. You're 19-years-old and you've never been laid."

"You're 19-years-old and only had intercourse with one woman."

"What the hell is this? Sex-ed? Who says intercourse as the term for sex? Besides, that's one more than you."

Stanley frowned. "Don't say that."

"What? You mean sex?"

"Stop that."

"Sex, sex, sex, sex, se-"

Stanley covered his ears, frowning heavily. "Shut up!"

"Tell me what's wrong then."

"Nothing!"

"Doesn't seem like nothing. I can tell when you're upset, bro-bro."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Is it chemistry? Physics? Math?"

"A bit of all that and it's just that one theory I told you about. The one that Everett fellow thought up about back in 1954 an-"

"Who? Whose Everett?"

"The guy that went to my university! The one I told you about, that came up with this whole concept!"

"Oh, was this when I was eating that turkey club a few months back?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I wasn't listening."

Stanley's eye twitched in irritation. "Anyways, he had attempted to apply the math of quantum physics to prove that quantum effects cause the universe to s-"

"Boringgg."

"Ok, you're only saying that, because you don't understand."

"No, I'm saying that, because it's boring."

"Just listen! I need to explain this, so you understand the damn problem!"

"Ok, ok, jeez! No need to yell at me, man."

"So, when applying the math of quantu-" He cut himself off, seeing Stan raise his hand, and sighed. "What?"

"What's quantum physics?"

"Jesus Christ..." He muttered to himself. "Ok, basically, it's the activities going on inside atoms and the interaction of particles. The waves of energy constantly going on around us is known as Electric and Magnetic fields, or EM. These fields explain how the atoms and particles operate or interact. Do you understand?"

His brother shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good, now Everett had the idea in mind that if he could use quantum physics to prove that quantum effects cause the universe to split constantly into different paths. He used this concept as his thesis for his PhD. In it, he described how we all live in multiple universes, all with copies of ourselves."

"Stanley, this sounds like some of that nerdy, science fiction, H.G. Wells shi-"

"It's not like that at all! Now, shut up and listen!"

"Ok, ok, cool your jets!"

"Well, do you remember that formula I started working on our sophomore year back in high school?"

"Vaguely?"

"I...I might be close to solving it."

"Solving what?"

"The formula I told you that could officially prove Hugh Everett's theory!"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second, you're saying, that you're close to proving that there are alternate universes out there?"

"And, how to get to them, with this formula. Professor John Wheeler, the one who supervised his thesis, knew my physics teacher, Professor Harris back then, and he's been assisting me with it. But, we just can't finish solving it and I'm getting frustrated with it."

There was a moment a silence, before Stan burst out in laughter. "Oh boy, you almost got me there! I thought you were being serious about all this crap for a moment!"

"I am being serious, god dammit Stanford!" Stanley cried, slamming a fist onto the tabletop.

"And I'm President Johnson's dog Him!" He sarcastically replied.

"Screw you." Stanley replied, gathering his paperwork and himself from the dimly lite spot in the kitchen.

Stanford watched him for a moment, suddenly stunned. "...holy shit, you're being serious."

"Yes, I was, but, I think I'm going to bed for tonight, because I'm done. It's been five years and we've barely made any process, so I'M JUST DONE!" He concluded, shoving his paperwork across the floor in an abrupt fit of anger.

"Woah, ok, just calm down Stanley, you're not done." Stanford told him, reaching out to touch the heaving shoulders of his brother.

He jerked his shoulder away. "I am done, now get the hell out of here!"

"First of all, I'm actually the one making the most income out of the three of us, so I'm not getting the hell out of my own apartment. Secondly, you can't just give up."

"And why not?!"

"...how many times did it take for Edison to invent a light bulb that actually worked?"

"Well..." He began calming somewhat. "Technically, Thomas Edison didn't create the first operating light bulb, just the first commercially successful on-"

"Just answer the question!"

"Well, there are actually multiple accounts on this, anywhere between 1,000 to 10,000. We can't actually prove which account is correct, considering the fact he's dea-"

"And did he give up?!"

"Well...uh, no, no he didn't."

"Then, are you going to give up?!"

Stanley frowned for a moment, before smiling, feeling inspired by these words. "No! No, I'm not!"

"Now, get back to work on that equation and solve it!"

"...I don't know where I threw it." He finally stated after an awkward moment, staring at the papers scattered across the kitchen floor.

"Oh, would you look at the time? I have to pick up Carla from work! Good luck!" Stan exclaimed, hurriedly leaving the apartment, in an effort to avoid helping clean up the mess created.

_~1967~_

"Oregon? Why the hell would you want us to move straight across the country?" Stan groused to his brother, from his spot in the living room.

"Because, Professor Harris told me he knew someone there that could help and that he could recommend me to work at the local community college in the same area." Stanley replied, attempting to keep his anger in check from his brother's attitude on this subject.

"Well, I think you should do it, Stanley." Carla replied, next to Stanford on the couch.

"Well, I don't!"

"It's not up to you, Stanford, I was telling you my plan, you can do whatever the hell you want." He replied heatedly.

"We're going wherever you go, hon." Carla replied, giving him a smile.

He felt his temper towards his brother somewhat reduce. "Thank you, Carla. I'm glad I have someone supportive to my decisions."

"My own girlfriend just betrayed me!" Stan cried, pulling away his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Stan, I didn't betray you. If your brother feels like this is a good decision, then we should follow him."

"He's making a ass-ton of money of as a professor at Princeton and now he wants to move to some stupid little school and get practically shit!"

"I don't care about the money, god dammit! I need to solve this, Stanford!"

Carla cut-in once more, to cease the beginnings of a fight. "Don't worry, Stanley. We're going."

"Well, I'm not." Stan stated, crossing his arms.

"Have fun living alone then, sweetie."

"What?! You're leaving me for my brother?!"

"No, I'm leaving, because you're being an non-supportive asshole about your brother's dreams." She replied, sitting next to Stanley.

"...fine, I'll go to your stupid little town."

"Glad you are finally seeing it Stanley's way." Carla smiled at him, batting her eyelashes at her boyfriend.

_~1968~_

The passenger door to the maroon '65 Cadillac DeVille was slammed, causing the the frame to tremble, the license plate reading "STNLYMBL". A well bodied man, with a white shirt spread across his thick shoulders and jeans hugging his legs, exited. The driver's door shut, with much less force. A man similar to the first, yet with more weight than muscle apparent through his black shirt and thick glasses on his face, stepped out. "Stanford, would you stop slamming the doors?!"

"Make me." Stan replied engagingly.

One of the back seat doors swung open, revealing a curvy woman in hues of purple emerging from it. "Stan, listen to your brother. This is a good car and we don't need a repeat of the motorcycle."

"How was I supposed to know that it shouldn't go at that speed?"

"Anyone with a brain." Stanley cut in with a sneer.

"What did you just say?!" Stan asked lurching forward, swinging his fists, but was restrained by his girlfriend.

"Enough, you two! Geez, it's a wonder that neither of you two ever killed each other! Stan, just be on your best behavior; we're going to meet someone that could help Stanley with his formula."

"Ok, ok, just let go!" She released his thick arms and he ran his hands through his slicked back hair.

Carla whirled around to the other Pines twin, pointing at him. "And you better stop insulting him!"

Stanley threw his hands up in a defensive position, in an attempt to shield himself from her flash of anger. "I will, I will!"

"Good," The trio approached the white picket fence, causing it to release a creak as it was opened, and went to the front door. As Stanley began to knock, Carla whispered to her boyfriend. "Remember, best behavior, sweetie."

"I know, I know." Stan grumbled back to Carla.

After a moment, the door swung inwards, revealing a man much shorter than the Pines twins. The sleeves of his white button were rolled up to his elbow, his tan slacks fit loosely over his legs, and hair was combined in an orderly fashion, unlike Stanley's own unkempt one. He adjusted his glasses, smiling kindly. His eyes momentarily lingered on the six-fingers Stanley sported on each hand, before he extended a hand to Stanley. "Stanley Pines, I presume?"

"Yes, you may call me Stanley though, nice to meet you Fiddleford McGucket."

"I'm quite elated to meet you and...ah, who are your friends?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is my brother, Stan, and his girlfriend, Carla."

Carla reached out and grasped his hand, shaking it with such force, that Fiddleford's whole body was jolted by the movement. "Hello, Mr. McGucket, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Carla McCorkle."

"O-Oh, the pleasure is all mine!" They released hands and the museum curator turned to Stan with a extended hand. "I'm glad to meet you as well, Stan Pines."

"If you call me Stan ever again, I'll crush your windpipe with my bare hands. It's Stanford to you."

Fiddleford cringed at the lethal tone, feeling as though he wasn't bluffing. Carla smiled wider though, as if she found the whole sentence to be perfectly normal, and gazed to her boyfriend. "Sweetie, can we go get my purse from the car?"

Stan froze at her tone, observing the cold eyes he received. "Uh, I rather no-"

The brunette grinned even wider and grasped his forearm in an iron grip. Her voice came in a low and deadly hiss. "_Now_."

He gulped fearfully, turning his gaze to his brother for an escape. He fully ignored him though, facing in the opposite direction and was dragged away against his will be his girlfriend. A moment later, the yelling began, though the other two were much too far now to be heard what exactly was being screamed about near their car. Stanley sighed. "I apologize for my brother; he's unaware of common courtesy and is a nuisance to everyone around him."

"O-Oh, that's fine. As long as he isn't serious about, um, the whole crushing of the w-windpipe thing." Fiddleford laughed out nervously.

"I can assure you he won't. He's just all talk, so you're fine. Now, it would be wonderful if I could meet your wife."

"Uh, yes, she's in the kitchen. Come on in," The pair entered the threshold and the curator shouted out. "Honey, our guests are here!"

A moment later, Stanford and Carla were behind him. Stanley smirked at him, observing the hand print visibly on his cheek, whispering in satisfaction. "I see you got what you deserved."

"Shut it, poindexter." He hissed back.

A woman entered the entryway, crimson lips stretching into a serene smile. Her burgundy curls went to her collarbone and her excessively light turquoise tinted eye shadow, which matched her button-up dress, made her eyes seem doe-like. Her plump frame swayed as she approached the group, hand extended. "Well, hello there! I'm Susan, nice to meet you all."

Carla gasped softly, taking her hand gently. "Oh my god, your hair is beautiful!"

Susan laughed at her excitement. "Why thank you!"

"How do you do it?!"

"Well, I put the hot curl-"

"Susan, darling, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe there are others to be introduced to." Fiddleford cut-in, with a laugh.

A light blush scattered her cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry. You must be Professor Stanley Pines."

Stanley took her hand and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Your home is lovely."

"Oh, why thank you! And, who are your friends?"

"Well, this my brother, Stanford, and his girlfriend, Carla."

Carla smiled widely at her and Stan gave a causal wave her way. "Oh, how cute! You two seem like such a darling couple. Oh, I remember when Fid and I started dating, we were always holding hands, and cuddling, an-"

"S-Susan!" Fiddleford stuttered out, blushing deeply.

"Oh, Fid, we're married, I don't know why you're so embarrassed all the time when I talk about this sort of stuff!"

"Because, it's quite personal an-"

He was cut off by the cry of a baby, from down the hall, connected to the kitchen. Susan frowned. "Oh, I just put him to bed!"

She scurried off and the trio blinked owlishly at him. "You have a son?"

"Oh, I apologize, Stanley, it must of escaped my mind! Yes, I have a son, but don't worry, because I can still help you plenty with your theory."

"No, no, it's fine, just caught by surprise."

Stanford pointed at him, appearing incredulous. "How the hell did you get such a beautiful woman and have a kid with her?"

Carla elbowed him so hard in the stomach, that he released a gasp of breath, and hunched his body over to reduce the pain, grasping at himself. "C-Carla!"

"Don't mind him; he has no idea how to be nice."

"Um, so I've heard," Replied the curator. Stan glared hatefully at him, though creating more of a grimace. He cringed and gazed away. "Errrr, would you like to take a drive to the lodge I told you about?"

Stanley nodded. "Yes, you told me it was on the outskirts of town?"

"It's actually in the forest, but that shouldn't be a problem, correct?"

"No, it's fine."

"Oh my god, Stan, we're going to see a bunch of cute deer and little racoons a-" She shook her boyfriend.

"Ok, ok, woodland creatures, I get it! Stop shaking me!"

Stanley ignored the pair. "Did you say you recently bought it?"

"Actually, this may sound a bit odd, but I purchased it from a man back in '57 and I honestly took it, simply due to the fact that it $100."

Stanley gave him a bewildered look. "Did you say $100?"

"Yes, I honestly thought there was a catch, but there wasn't. All he informed was that it held too many bad memories for him. I actually asked around and discovered it's been here for at least a century. I had to do a bit of repair work and cleaning, but it came out fine."

"A century? Pretty impressive that it's still standing. Who did you say sold it to you?"

Fiddleford gulped, eyes shifting away. "Um, well, the thing is th-"

"As fun as this history lesson sounds, I sorta want to leave, because this is getting boring as hell." Stan interrupted.

Stanley's eye twitched, nearly whirling around to punch him in the face, but was able to control himself once he heard his brother release a yelp of pain, likely from Carla injuring him as punishment. "Mr. McGucket, shall we head to the lodge now?"

"Oh, yes, of course, let me find my keys, and I'll lead the way." Fiddleford replied, leaving the room.

Stanley whirled around, hissing. "Can you just shut your damn mouth for once?"

Stan hissed back. "It's not my fault that Gravity Falls and your new friend is boring as sin!"

Carla stepped in-between the pair, hissing a bit louder than them. "Enough! If you two don't start be civilized with one another, I'm going to lock you both in a closet at the lodge, and leave you in there until you solve your problems!"

Stanley and Stanford paled, speaking in unison. "Carla, there is absolutely no w-"

Fiddleford entered the kitchen and everyone returned to a non-threatening appearance. "Right, I've located my keys, so if you simply follow my car, I'll take you all there."

"Thank you, Fiddleford, we'll do just that." Carla replied with a bat of her eyelashes, receiving a timid smile in return. The curator went out the front door, with Carla following in the rear. Right before she exited, she spun herself back to the twins. She pointed her index and middle fingers at her eyeballs, then jabbed in their general direction in the same matter. The pair gulped as she left.

_Chapter 22 End_

**So, I would like to start with that after watching "The Tale of Two Stan's" that this story is super AU now, though I loved the plot line Alex Hirsch has taken to Gravity Falls (What? Mystery Trio isn't canon? Of course they are, hahaha...ha...). There's huge differences between this fic and the real plot of the cartoon, such as Grunkle Stan being Stanford and Grunkle Ford being Stanley, but I hope you all aren't bothered by that too much. Anyways, I've split this chapter into parts considering the length of it. Furthermore, I have several notes for this chapter. Stan and Stanford were born on January 1st, 1945 and when the pair was 13-years-old, when their father passed away from a heart attack. Just like Alex made it in Gravity Falls, I felt like he was more proud of Stanley, than of Stan. Their mother in this fic was a hardworking, but playful, single mother that worked as a secretary. "The Mummy" came out in 1959 and featured Sir Christopher Lee. Disney's "Sleeping Beauty" also came out in 1959. There's a YMCA in Burlington County, New Jersey. I also imagined that Stanley was polite and kind to everyone, except to his brother, who he would lose his temper often due to Stan's behavior. Next, Hugh Everett was actually a real physicist, who went to the same university as Stanley, and we can basically thank him for coming up with the theory of AU's. Everything Stanley explains to his brother are actually real concepts and facts. Next, President Johnson was the president at the time of the conversation about Stanley's formula; he and his wife had a pair of beagles named Him &amp; Her. Next, I always imagined Lazy Susan as McGucket's ex-wife. I think that's it for notes on this chapter and I'll update fairly soon for part two of this chapter.  
**


	24. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Warnings include heavy language throughout the chapter.  
**

_~1969, March~_

"STANLEY, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! WHY THE WOULD YOU BE INTO THIS BULLCR-SHIT! SHIT, RUN! THE GNOMES ARE COMING THIS WA-" Stan was cut off as an explosion of gnomes barely missed him and his brother's sprinting forms.

"Stanford, shut up, you're making them more angry. If you had just shut your mouth and let me sketch them, then this wouldn't have happened and then we could o-"

"You're full of shit! This is _not _my fault! If you didn't tr-DAMMIT!" He jumped out of the way, as another explosion of gnomes narrowly missed him. "You had to start stealing their hair to do whatever creepy shit you do down in the basemen with Fiddles an-"

The pair's eyes widened and they cried in unison. "FIDDLEFORD!"

In the distance, the museum curator was being crushed by several gnomes, attempting to fight off their combined strength. Sweat rolled down his face, struggling to breath as the weight of several of them crushed his thin frame. Fiddleford was rapidly loosing strength and felt light headed from the apparent lack of oxygen. He briefly pondered where the Pines twins had gone after the trio had fled the lair of the creatures, but the thought went away as he began to loose consciousness. "...S'an...'ord...S'an...'ey..."

He heard the gnomes crying out and the breath returned to him as the weight was reduced. In-between the bodies of gnomes covering him, he caught a glimpse of Stanley beating them with one of his journals, while Stan was punching them until they would scurry off in fear. They made eye contact with him at the same moment and cried out his name. Strength returning, now that he could breath, he began to push the gnomes off of him, ignoring their bites. He reached a hand out of the pile of bodies on top of them. "HELP!"

Stan lunged at the pile, grasping onto his hand, attempting to pull him out. The creatures began to stockpile themselves onto him as well though and he yelped as they began to bite. "Ow! OW! WHAT THE HELL! STOP BITING ME! YOU FREAKS OF NATURE ARE GOING TO GIVE ME RABIES!"

"STANFORD!" Stanley screamed and Fiddleford caught of a glimpse of the other Pines twin, grasping his brother's foot, attempting to remove them both from the hoard of gnomes. He felt Stan's hand began to slip from his own and his chocolate eyes gazed into his own, a desperation apparent in them. His hand shifter, grasping his wrist instead, and both of their bodies moved, as Stanley succeeded in pulling them out. They scrambled into standing positions, Stan assisting his friend in standing. "RUN!"

The pair didn't have to be told twice and sprinted after the frantic scientist. They began to distance themselves from the dazed gnomes, attempting to reassemble themselves and soon they were miles from the scene. The trio only slowed, once they entered the clearing where the Shack laid. They bent over, hands on their knees, heaving for breath. There was a beat of silence, before Stan spoke. "...we're done with gnomes."

"Agreed." The scientists replied.

_~1969, June~_

"What the hell is that?" Stan questioned, pointing at the floating triangle in front of his brother.

"Um, he says his name is Bill and, uh, he just appeared from the fridge when I went to grab a beer?" Stanley replied, uneasily eyeing him.

Bill Cipher extended his hand. "_Yep, Bill Cipher is my name, and running destiny is my game!_"

Stanley uncertainly grasped his hand and shook it. "Uh, what were you doing in the fridge?"

"_Simply waiting for one of you two notice me. Been in there for a week now._"

"Wait, you were in our fridge for a week and we didn't notice?" Stan asked, scratching his chin.

"_I was the mustard you kept glaring at all week. You not a fan?_"

"Ugh, no, an-"

"Wait, are you a shape shifter? Oh my god, where's my journal, I need to sketch yo-" The scientist was cut off, Bill waved the journal he held in his hand. "How did you get my journal?!"

"_I have my ways. Did you say you wanted to sketch little ol' me?_" He questioned, tossing the journal to him.

He caught it. "Yes, see, I've been researching the strange happenings of this town an-"

"_You sketch them and take notes, I know._"

"You been watching us?" Stan asked, suspiciously.

"_No, but being an all-knowing being has it's benefits._"

"All-knowing? Are you not a shape shifter then?" Stanley asked.

"_Actually, I'm a dream demon._"

"...I can I talk to you in the hall, Stanley?"

"No, I'm talking t-" His brother dragged him out of the kitchen and into the hall. Stanley glared at him. "What are you doing? I'm trying to tal-"

"I don't trust that _thing_." Stan grunted, jabbing a finger at Bill in the background.

"Stanford, you said that about that Fiddleford's son when I had to watch him, when he went on a date with Susan last week."

"That was because he kept crawling into _my_ room and putting _my_ stuff in his mouth. And, I trust this thing even less."

"There is nothing wrong with _him_. If he meant us any harm, he would of hurt us by now."

"Stanley, _it_ literally said _it_ was a demon. Did you learn nothing from all those horror movies you used to make me go with you to watch when we were kids?" He hissed.

"_Hello? All-knowing being can hear exactly what you're saying,_ " Bill chimed in, directly behind them. The pair startled, clearly surprise that he had snuck up on them. "_Did you not quite grasp this concept by any chance, Stanford?_"

"Who the hell told you my name?"

"_Again, I am an all-knowing being._"

"I'm sorry, Bill, my brother can be quite rude at times an-"

"Look, since you can apparently always know what we're saying, I'll just say it to your face; I don't trust you."

"_Oh, I know. Just like I know your girlfriend can hold you in a head-lock until you lose consciousness._"

Stan blushed and scowled at the dream demon, then stormed off, while Stanley laughed at his twin's embarrassment the entire time. He bellowed over his shoulder at the glowing demon and his brother. "Do you know what? Fine, you can do whatever the hell you want with it! You can marry it for all I care, but don't say I didn't warn you!"

_~1970, January~_

"Oh my god, we did it..." Stanley whispered in awe.

"We solved it..." Fiddleford whispered back.

"What are you nerds whispering about?" Stanford asked, glancing up from his battered copy of S.E. Hinton's "The Outsiders", as they were gathered about a table in the basement. Stanley calmly handed over the papers, that scientists were previously hunched over, to Stan. Stan dogeared his page and snatched it from his brother. He stared at it for a few moments, frowning in confusion at the work scattered across it. "You solved some math problem?"

"That's the formula I told you I could never solve."

"Oh. You mean the one where you can time travel?"

"No, the alternate universe one." He whispered back, clearly still stunned.

"Oh, congrats." Stanford replied, dropping the paperwork onto the tabletop, returning to his book.

There was a moment of silence, before Stanley turned to his panther, realizing he had been silent. "Fiddleford?"

Stan glanced up once more and frowned at the dazed expression on the curator's face. He plopped his book down and waved a hand in front of his blank face he was currently sporting. "Hello? Ford? Anybody homeeee?"

"...I've studied this matter for over 20 years and finally unveiled the formula to jump dimensions." He muttered to himself.

Stan shrugged and went back to reading the novel, as the pair beside him stared into space, the words coming alive in his mind. "_Man, I thought if I have worries like that, I'd consider myself lucky. I know better now._"

_~1970, December~_

"Abort, abort, oh my fucking god, abort!" Stanford cried into the walkie-talkie he held, as he sprinted from the officers.

His own crackled to life, Fiddleford's voice wavering in. "Stan? Stanford, what's going on?"

"The _policía_ are on my damn tail! We need to abort right _now_!" He cried, weaving in-between trees.

"Oh my god, ok, uh, hold on a moment!"

"What?! I can't hold on! They're literally right behind me! I can hear them!"

"Stanley wants to know if you've gotten the chemicals or the machine parts."

"This is not the fucking time to do this!"

"I know, I'm sorry, so that's obviously a no then?"

"No, I don't have any of them on me, but I-Shit, they're firing at me!" He screamed, as he heard guns going off in the distance.

"Oh my god, where are you?! We'll come and g-"

"I'm in the damn jungle! How in the world would I be able to tell you where to pick me up?!"

"I don't know! Here, Stanley wishes to speak to you!"

"Well, hurry it up!"

"Stanford? Stanford, what's going on?"

"The fucking Colombians are shooting at me, for breaking into their radiation plant, that's what's going on!"

"Shit, and you don't know where you are?"

"I already told Fidd-" Stan lost his balance when his foot was caught by an exposed root, causing him to take a tumble down a hill to his left. His head smacked into a tree and he cried out from the impact. He continued his roll, the walkie-talkie flung from his hand, before his movement was ceased by a protruding rock at the bottom. He cursed himself and spat out a bit of blood pooled into his mouth. He distantly heard his brother's voice calling his name and realized he didn't have it in his hand any longer. He patted the ground, on his hands and knees, feeling in the darkness for the walkie-talkie. The moon shining on his path, revealed it to be a few feet away. He snatched it up and replied immediately. "Stanley?"

"Oh my god, what the hell just happened?! I thought they got you for a second!"

"Sorry, tripped and fell."

"Jesus Christ, seriously? I thought you were actually in trouble and I was worried!"

Stan decided not to mention the blood and decided to concern himself with other matters. "I think I lost them, because it's qu-"

He stiffened as he witnessed the outlines of figures with flashlights heading down the hill. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "Stanley?"

"What? What's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry."

"Stanford, what's going on?" His brother hissed in reply.

"I'm sorry, they found me."

"Wha-"

"D-Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone, bro-bro." He replied, before removing the batteries from the walkie-talkie. He glanced around, still on his hands and knees, discovering an opening in the ground by a tree. He crammed the batteries and the machine itself into the hole, so the Colombian police wouldn't discover he had accomplices to this crime he had committed. Stan made it just in time as well, as multiple officers began to surround him, aiming their guns at him.

"_Levanta las manos!_" They began to repeatedly call out, as they made their approach. Despite barely knowing a word of Spanish, he knew exactly what they commanded him to do, placing his hands into the air, while he remained knelt upon the ground. They realized he concealed no weapons and began to push him onto his chest. He didn't make a single protest, as he was cuffed, lying on his stomach. He doubted he would be home for Christmas that year.

_~1972, January~_

"Oh my god, Stanford!" His brother cried, sprinting to him, as Stan got off the Speedy Beaver bus.

His brother tackled him at full force, knocking the wind out of him, and jostling his broken arm in his brace. He cringed, crying out. "_Ah_ _dios mio_!"

Stanley frowned, looking up at his brother's bruised face. "What?"

"Mr. Pines, as I told you over the phone, your brother is still injured, so I suggest not hanging onto him like that." Stanley's lawyer, Benjamin Howell, informed him, appearing from the bus, suitcase in hand.

Stanley immediately released him, observing his frame. "How bad is it?!"

"I think we should speak inside." Mr. Howell replied, reaching out for Stan's uninjured shoulder.

He jerked away with a sneer. "Don't touch me."

Stanley frowned, feeling anger flare within. "Stanford, Mr. Howell got you out of prison and that's how you speak to him?"

"I can speak to him however the hell I want. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going inside and taking a nap." He growled, heading towards the Shack.

"Stanford!" Stanley yelled, feeling extremely pissed at his behavior.

Mr. Howell touched his shoulder. "Mr. Pines...Stanley, give him some time. He's been held in a Colombian prison for over a year, so he needs time to re-adjust to society."

"I know that, but he's always talked to people in that manner, even though he has no damn reason to do so."

Mr. Howell sighed. "Stanley, he was beaten while he was in prison, almost on a daily occurrence, it's expected for him to find the need to feel hostile towards people."

"I know he was! And I feel horrible that I put him that situation, but he should be more grateful to you!"

"I've had certain clients treat me worse than your brother, it's fine. Just out if curiosity though, are you planning on actually telling me what he did? It was difficult to defend him against the Colombian government, when I didn't know what actually happened. That's actually why you and Mr. McGucket had to pitch in over $30,000 to get him out of prison."

"Which was completely ridiculous to bribe them with money! And, I'm sorry, we can't tell you."

He sighed. "Very well, but may I make a suggestion?"

"What?"

"Your brother cried on my shoulder three times during the ride back and he didn't even care if anyone saw. I honestly suggest he speak to a psychologist about what happened, because what's happened to him was a traumatic experience." Mr. Howell concluded.

Stanley blinked in surprise, knowing his brother never showed any sign of weakness to anyone, not even him when they were alone. He didn't think though, that Stan would even accept going to a doctor to talk through his issues though. "I don't know, I doubt he would want to."

He nodded. "I figure as much, but I think you should at least try talking to him sometime soon."

Stanley decided perhaps tomorrow would be best to began to approach the subject on what occurred, while he was away in another country. As destiny would have it though, it was later that same night, after informing Fiddleford who was in Portland for work and Carla who was visiting her family in Washington, that Stan had be released, he found himself in the lab with his brother. Stanley raised an eyebrow at him, gazing up from the journal he was scribbling in. "I thought you said you were going to sleep? It's midnight."

"Those parts you need for the machine are still in Colombia." His brother short replied, in sweatpants and Stanley's Princeton sweatshirt, feet bare.

He blinked. "The parts?"

"The god damned parts you made me go to prison for." He ground out, jaw clenched.

He gaped. "Wait, you actually had them?"

"Isn't that what I fucking said?"

"Ok, why are you so angry right now?"

"_Ah dios mio_!" He cried, throwing his hand into the air.

"That's the second time you've said that! What does that even mean?"

"It's Spanish and it just fucking slips out sometimes!"

"I didn't know you knew any!"

"Well, you learn a ton of fucking shit when your imprisoned in a another country for a fucking year!" Stanford exploded.

Stanley clenched his jaw. "Are you blaming me? That was not my fault."

"Oh, it's not?! It's not Stanley Pines and Fiddleford McGucket's fault that I was there?! It's not their fault I haven't seen my girlfriend for nearly a year?!"

"It...It's not." Stanley replied, grinding his teeth, reply not as confident as the previous response.

He lurched forward, grasping his twin's collar with one hand. "It is! It's all your fault, asshole! Do you know what it's like?! Do you?! Be housed with money launderers, and drug lords, and murderers, and rapists?! Do you?!"

"N-No."

"Do you know what it's like to be smacked around by them and have the guards laugh about the fucking silly American stuck in prison, who doesn't speak a word of Spanish?!"

"N-No."

"Do you know how I learned Spanish?! The guards would smack me upside the head with their damn sticks, every time I spoke a word of English, so I had to learn their stupid language, so they would at least stop hitting me! I couldn't get the other assholes off my back, but at least I could get the guards off mine if I spoke like them!"

"I-It's not my fault!" Stanley cried out, feeling sick at his brother's pain.

"Yes it is! If it wasn't thanks to you, I would of never been in the mess in the first place!"

"I-I'm sorr-"

Stan punched his brother, clean across the face, silencing him. He repeated the action, until blood poured from Stanley's nose. "I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

His twin never attempted to defend himself from the blows and he ceased his punches, breaking down into tears, releasing the bloody mess he held with one hand. He collapsed in a heap before the scientist's feet, trembling. "I-I hate you..."

Stanley removed his broken glasses and wiped at his dripping nose with his lab coat. "I-I'm sorry."

The pair embraced, breaking down into sobs, regretting actions they had committed.

_~1972, Feburary~_

"So, this is what you were doing was I was getting beat in prison." Stan whispered.

Carla trembled, wrapped the blanket draped around her bare body tighter. "P-Please, it was a m-mistake!"

"...we're done." He muttered, feeling numb.

"I-I didn't think you would ever get o-out and I f-felt s-so lonel-"

Stan stood from the edge of the bed he had settled himself upon, heading towards the bedroom door. "When I come back in the morning, you better be gone."

"S-Stanford, p-pleas-" She never called him Stanford. He gently closed the bedroom door behind him, not even angry, though his body was trembling from the betrayal he had witnessed. He snatched the keys to the motorcycle, the one his brother had bought him when he had returned from Colombia, and headed outside with his helmet on his head. The machine purred as Stan started her up. He didn't break down until he drove his motorcycle down the interstate to California. He didn't even flinch as he barreled straight into an oncoming car in the dead of the night.

_Chapter 23 End_

**Whoops, I lied when I said this was a two part chapter. Sorry, this will actually be in three parts. Anyways, I imagine, as Stan recounts his past to the children, he would obviously leave out anything too dark and most of the language. Notes for this chapter include: "The Outsiders" was published in 1967 and seemed like the type of novel Stan would love to repeatedly read. The last line in that section, with the italics was from a chapter in the novel and was meant to be foreshadowing of what was to come. The Speedy Beaver bus is what Dipper and Mabel had rode in to Gravity Falls. I'm pretty sure it's the equivalent of the Greyhound bus. "_Ah dios mio_" means "Oh my god" and "****_Levanta las manos_" means "Put your hands up" in Spanish. I actually was planning on having Stan become obsessed with helping his brother, causing Carla to break up with him, so she could have someone that actually loved her. Then, I read this comic on Tumblr about Stan catching her in the act of cheating and found I wanted that idea instead. As always favorites, followers, and reviews are appreciated!  
**


	25. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Warnings include heavy language throughout the chapter and thoughts/attempt of suicide starting around 1975.**

_~1972, October~_

"Stanford, this is Doris Spruce. Doris, this is my brother, Stan."

Stan shook her extended hand with a blank face, noting the artificial nails she wore. "Hi."

Stanley gulped, visibly nervous. Doris raised an eyebrow at him. "Hello."

"Uhhh, Doris works at the museum with Fiddleford. She transferred from California about a month ago and, um, well, I wanted to introduce you to her."

Her brunette blunt bangs covered her forehead, hair up in a high bun, face shaped as a heart. Her high waist, boot-cut jeans hugged her hips, scarlet button-up shirt undone at the top, showing off her cleavage. Her green eyes had a glare in them, as if judging his very presence. He didn't like her one bit. His leg cramped with a phantom pain, from the motorcycle accident from a year before, and he reached to the side table next to the couch for the bottle of painkillers labelled Vicodin. He struggled with a shaking hand to open the bottle as he spoke. "Oh, so you know Fiddles?"

"Fiddleford is a brilliant curator and I'm frankly surprised he doesn't work at the university instead, considering his mindset." She replied, eying his struggle.

"I think Fiddles does fine at the museum." He shortly replied, handing it to the extended hand of his brother.

Stanley decided to interrupt by this point, in order to avoid a fight, as he opened the bottle. He handed it back to his grimacing twin. "Uh, Doris and I were thinking about going to see that new movie about the shark."

He dumped nine pills into the palm of his hand "Oh, well have fun."

His brother blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Well, I'm not your parent, so whoever you decide you want to go on a date is none of my business."

"Oh, uh, well, I'm going then. See you, uh, later." He left the room with his date.

As they left, he heard Doris whisper to her date. "...this place is kind of old and gross...want to come over to mine after the movie?"

Stan felt his blood boil as the front door clicked shut. This was their home and they loved it dearly. It had been the first house they had lived in and they all agreed it had a cozy atmosphere, but it seemed as though Doris Spruce couldn't view it as such. He wouldn't lose his temper though, because soon his twin would realize she wasn't right for them. He smiled a bit, as the painkillers set in, realizing it would happen soon. "Stupid Doris."

_~1974, November~_

"Doris and I are expecting." Stanley informed his brother, twisting his wedding ring around his finger with nerves.

He froze, turning down the volume of "Saturday Night Live", and turning his attention to his brother. "...what?"

"We're, um, going to have a baby."

Stan stared at his nervous brother for a long moment, before laughing breathlessly. Stanley worriedly watched his nearly hysterically twin. "S-Stan?"

Stan lurched forward from the reclining chair, tackling a brother, embracing him tightly. "A baby! My little brother is having a baby!"

"Stanford, we're not getting into this argument, again. Just because you were born two minutes ahead of m-wait, you're actually happy?"

"Of course! You're going to be a dad an-I'M GOING TO BE A FUCKING UNCLE!"

"Ok, we need to talk about language if you're going to be involved in my child's life, because you need to tone it down."

"What?! Hell no!"

"STANFORD!"

"A DAMN BABY!"

_~1975, The End of June~_

Stan realized he hadn't been happy for a long time, and it probably all started when the police caught him in Colombia. But, being taught from a young age by his father to suck everything up, he had done just that. But, after five years, Stan realized that feeling of wanting to overdose on your pain medication wasn't a normal one. In fact, it was a suicidal one.

His lover for life had cheated on him. He had spent a year in Colombian prison being beaten and having his self-esteem eroded everyday. His brother had been taken away from his by a woman he hated, and who had similar feelings. His best friend had been spending more time at home, then with him anymore. The pair had pulled the plug on their work, finding it unable to work correctly, putting all their work, including his own, to waste. His phantom pains in his leg were worsening, causing him to take 13 pills in one sitting yesterday and causing him to loose consciousness for awhile. And, to top it all off, he had been having horrendous dreams about that demon he and his brother had met. He had taken to drinking a bit heavier than usual to drown his thoughts, which might of explained why he had thrown up when he woke yesterday. He didn't need help, or, at least he didn't think so, especially since he now lived alone in the Shack, Stanley moving in with his heavily pregnant wife.

He needed a escape though, he just needed it, or he might act on the impulse to empty the whole bottle of pills right at that mome-

"_Well, well, well, Stanford Pines, it seems you're in a bit of a pickle!_" Bill Cipher laughed out, observing the slightly tipsy Stan, glaring at him, reaching into the fridge for another beer.

"Fuck off, Cipher." He ground out, opening the bottle of beer, and taking a swing.

"_Now, now, now, that isn't anyone to greet someone!_"

"Well, it's how I greet anyone I find annoying."

"_Oh, come now, I'm sure you've met more annoying people!_"

He slumped down onto a seat at the kitchen table. "Nope, you're the most annoying."

"_If I was so annoying, would I actually want to help you? I don't think taking so many pills and drinking like that is good for a meat sack like yourse-_"

"Ok, look, Cipher I honestly don't think hanging out with a demon is a smart idea and frankly I don't trust you."

"_That's what Lincoln said, but who was the one that decided to make a deal to win the Civil War? You're acting exactly acting like that man, and we became the best of buddies! In fact, he gave me his hat!_" Bill pointed at the hat floating above his head.

"Rightttt, and is there a reason why he was murdered by an assassin after winning?"

"_That was, ah, a simple repercussion to our little deal, but that is beside the point, as you won't end up dead. I can help you though, make your life back to normal._" A wisp of smoke created by the dream demon's hand, produced the outline of Carla, Fiddleford, Stanley, and himself standing by one another.

The brunet waved the smoke away. "You must think I'm idiot if you think I'm gonna make a deal with you."

"_I know you don't trust me, but if you listen to my tiny favor, in return you can get whatever you want._"

"No."

"_Pleaseeeeee?_"

"Go away."

"_Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_"

"I said no! Now, leave me the hell alone!"

Bill sighed and floated closer. "_Stanfordddddd, I know how you feel._"

"You don't no shit about me."

"_I know how pointless everything seems, I promise you I know,_" Stan didn't even glance up from the beer bottle he was staring down. "_I know how hard it is getting up in the mornings and how painful life is. I know the burning, the burning inside your heart. I can fix that though, trust me._"

He was silent for a moment, before whispering. "...what do you want?"

"_No, no, no! We're starting with what you want! What do you want? Do you want your brother back? Do you want the memories of Colombia to go away? Do you want your best friend and brother to have a working portal? Do you want Carla back?_"

Stan squeezed his eyes shut. Carla. Out of everything that seemed to burn his heart the most. Oh god, it burned his insides so dearly, god. He wanted her back so desperately, but...she wasn't his any longer. No, he couldn't have her back. But...his brother was so important to him. His brother was so disappointed when the portal didn't work and he felt so bad that his brother's life work didn't work. He knew what he would wish for. "I want Stanley's portal to work."

"_Of course. And, in return, I simply want to burrow your body for the week._"

Stan blinked, glancing up with a skeptical look. "My body?"

"_I simply push your soul to the back of your mind and take control for just a week. I haven't had a real body in sooo long, and I get ever so lonely._"

Stan could understand loneliness, he truly did. He was burning inside from the loneliness. Besides, what the hell could Bill do with his body anyways? There wasn't much that could go wrong. Only problem was... "People are gonna notice when I start acting different."

"_No, no, because nobody pays that much attention to you anymore. They'll never notice,_" It was true, oh god, it hurt to say, but it was true. No one had cared for such a long time, and it burned deeper within. God, he needed to stop the burning, god, it was ruining him. He reached out a trembling hand, thinking about how lonely he was, and how much he wanted to make his brother happy. Stan made contact with the demon's burning one. It felt warm, safe, unlike the burning within his heart. "_It's a deal, Crescent._"

_~1975, 1 week later on July 4th~_

Bill Cipher was right about everything. His nephew had been born over a week ago, and soon after, Stanley had decided to try the portal once more, Fiddleford had agreeing on this as well. They both claimed, that in their dreams, they had visions of the portal operating. They toke it as a sign to continue on. They never notice Stan's unnatural behavior, the injuries he kept giving himself, the fact that he no longer had his pills for his chronic pain, or that he was suffering from withdrawal of his medication. Bill found the final one hilarious, even as he hugged the toilet seat, throwing up his stomach acid, since he never ate in that whole week. They never heard Stanford, deep within his body, screaming for help from the demon overtaken his body. And, he never knew what Bill was planning, until the Fourth of July.

"_It's time, Crescent, it's time._" Bill giggled, as he woke that morning.

"What the fuck does that mean?! And, stop calling me that!" He echoed throughout his own mind.

"_Time for breakfast and for the final adjustments!_" He sniggered to himself. Neither his brother or best friend were in the kitchen, having worked throughout the night as usual. Bill burned Stan's body several times as he made omelets that morning and his body ached for a taste. Stanford felt every bit of the pain. When he entered the lab, they never noticed the burns scattered across his arms or legs, in his white tank top and boxers. They didn't make a noise as he set the plates down and edged out of the room, focusing on the portal they were making adjustments on.

"_Tonight's the night!_" The triangle sang out, as he bounded down the stairs leading to the basement that night. The fireworks went off throughout town, the perfect time to operate a loud machine, as he entered the lab. He wore a Shiner's hat, a dark suit, a pair of Oxford's, and a maroon tie. The pair looked up from their work this time in confusion. "_Happy Fourth of July!_"

"You as well, but, uh what are you wearing, Stan?"

"_Oh, I just decided to try out a new outfit, Fiddles._"

Fiddleford appeared slightly skeptical at this reply and Stanford felt hope swell within himself. Please, notice! Please, I'm not me! Save me! He was abruptly pulled away from his skepticism, as Stanley shook his shoulder in excitement. "Fiddleford, it's time to start it up."

Stan sobbed for relief, knowing he would never receive it at this point. Bill Cipher was planning a truly devious plan and he could view it flashing throughout his mind. He screamed for them to watch out, but to no avail. They simply started it up, not noticing the eerily grinning Stanford Pines in the background. Instead, they beamed at one another, as the portal lite up, proud of their work, as it produced an echoing, humming noise. "My god, we've done it."

"You know what comes next, Fiddleford." Stanley replied.

Fiddleford frowned at him, shaking his head. "Stanley, no, we agreed if we did succeed, we wouldn't do it. It's too dangerous sending a living being through it."

"Only in theory; we can do it!"

"Absolutely no-"

"_Do it._" Bill cut in.

The pair looked to him. After a moment of silence, Fiddleford pointed at his panther, face set in an stern appearance. "Only if we send something through it first."

Stanley nodded, before picking up a partially eaten apple lying nearby. ""We'll tie the apple to that rope you bought the other day and throw it in."

"Fine," The curator replied, snatching the fruit from him, and heading to a pile of discarded rope they used in past experiments. He tied and double knotted some rope around it, tugging on it to be certain that it was securely snug around it. He tossed it into the air and caught it. "We throw it in for five minutes and return it."

They did exactly that and it returned to exactly pristine condition, thought it was freezing cold to the touch, a patch of ice forming on one side of it. "See? It's fine. I just need to wear winter gear for warmth an-"

"Wait, I thought we agreed Stanford would."

"_Yesss, I thought we agreed on me._" Bill chimed in, receiving odd looks from them.

"Are you feeling alright, Stan?" Fiddleford questioned.

"_Sorryyyyy, I might be coming down something._"

"All the more reason for me to go." Stanley firmly stated.

"_No, I can do it just fi-_" The dream demon replied, attempting to hide his excitement about Stanley going as a replacement. Warning signs blared in Stan's head and he caught an image of his plans. Stan screamed in horror at what was in store for the scientists and he could do nothing to regain control of his beaten body.

"No, I'm going and it's final."

"...fine, let's just get that heavier gear then." The curator begrudgingly replied.

Stanley couldn't conceal his visibly apparent eagerness of going into another dimension as he pulled on a thick black snow jacket and pants over his current pair of clothes. He folded up his lab coat, setting it down upon a nearby table, stacked with paperwork. He pulled on his thermal socks and winter boots, ignoring the concerned looks Fiddleford had. His forest green scarf, was wrapped around his neck by his 'brother' and he appeared surprised. "I didn't think you would so willingly let me do this."

Bill removed his glasses and shoved a beanie matching the color of his scarf onto his head. "_If you really want to do this, I can't stop you._"

The scientist frowned at these words and was handed his glasses. "_You're going to need these later._"

He plucked them from his brother's icy hands and shoved it into his snow jacket with a frown. "Why are your hands so col-?"

Fiddleford handed a pair of snow goggles, which Stanley had nearly forgotten, sliding them onto his face. He stepped into the safety harness presented by his panther and patiently waited as his thicker frame was strapped into it. The curator struggled for a moment to secure the front of the harness to the man, weight protruding out around his waist. He sucked in his stomach and Fiddleford was able to secure it. "I think my weight may be getting a bit out of hand; remind me to lose some once I get back."

"That's what you said when my wife made sweaters for you two last Christmas and your's couldn't fit over your stomach. Do you recall how you gave up just after one workout with your brother?" Fiddleford replied.

"That's because he nearly killed me with that workout!" He defended himself, glaring at his beaming brother. "And look how proud he is about it!"

"_Oh, I'm not proud right now, I'm elated!_"

"I'm seriously about two seconds from punching you in the face."

"This is definitely not a time to be fighting you two; if the harness becomes damaged, it might cause you to become stuck in the other dimension." The curator sternly informed them.

"_Oh, you don't have to worry about the harness breaking._" Bill replied and Stanley's eye twitched in irritation.

"I should hope not." Fiddleford replied, loosening the harness around his partner's shoulders.

"_You just have to worry about the rope._" The dream demon whispered corruptly, causing Stan to panic internally.

"Ok, I'm ready."

"Are you sure, Stanley?" The curator questioned nervously, clearly not all that keen on him heading into the portal.

"Yes, I'll be back soon," He confirmed, as he secured the snowboarding goggles onto his face. He nodded to the pair. "Wish me luck."

"_Good luck, bro-bro._" Bill was nearly giggling, as he jumped into the portal, leaving the pair to secure the rope with their hands, tying the end to a knob they installed into the ground. Stan realized what the dream demon had planned would occur now and his best friend would suffer from this event and that Stanley would not be back soon.

"10 minutes and we pull him back in." Fiddleford yelled over his shoulder at the other Pines brother, not noticing Bill cutting into the rope from the knob with a pocket knife Stanford carried on his person. When the rope snapped, unbeknownst to Fiddleford, the curator lurched forward from the sudden lost of support from behind. "Stan?!"

The support returned a moment later, much to his relief. "_Sorry, I lost my grip for a moment._"

"That's alright, as long as it doesn't happen, again," He felt the rope shift and Stan was suddenly flush up against his back. "Um, Stanford, you need to be further back, in case the rope snaps, so you can re-tie it."

The brunet became even closer, hands going around his body, and onto his own hands. "S-Stan?"

He looked upwards to the man's fave, finding him beaming eerily down at him. "_Let go._"

"W-What?"

"_If you don't let go, I'll break your arms._"

"S-Stan, what are you talking about?" One of his hands was jerked away and he lurched forward, releasing a yelp of pain as the strain began to pull the curator forward. "S-Stanford!"

"_Wrong guess, Glasses._"

Fiddleford's eyes widened at this. "B-Bill?"

There was a snap as Fiddleford's arm was broken by the dream demon and he screamed in agony. His arm released the rope and so did Bill at the same exact moment. As the curator fell to the floor, grasping his arm in pain, the rope disappeared into the portal. Fiddleford, through his haze of pain, witnessed this and reached out his hand. "STANLEY!"

The triangle began to giggle darkly, stumbling around as an explosion of sparks erupted from the portal. Fiddleford screamed in the background and the portal screamed with him. Moments later, the power in the whole building went out and the screaming ended. There was complete darkness and silence, when Stan was returned to his body, on his hands and knees. A red glow engulfed the room, emergency light kicking it. The portal remained silent though and he glanced around. His body ached horribly and his head throbbed. He sat onto his bottom and looked at his typically chronically pained leg, realizing the constant phantom pains were no longer present. That wasn't important though. "F-Fiddles?"

There was a broken sob to his right and he witnessed the huddled figure of the curator cradling his broken arm. He felt his stomach churn as he realized what happened and he lost the contents of his stomach across the floor, which wasn't much, since he hadn't ate in days He realized his body trembling might be from the fact that he hadn't had a meal for nearly a week. Thank god, Bill had at least listened to Stan's cries for water. "F-Fiddles, y-you o-ok?"

He received no reply and began to crawl over to his friend, limps trembling from weakness. He reached his friend, gently touching his shoulder. Fiddleford pushed away with a cry of fear, scrambling away. "D-Don't touch me!"

"F-Fiddleford, I-I didn-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He was shoved violently away, falling flat onto his back.

"F-Fiddles...I...where...S-Stanley..." The shove must of finally pushed him to breaking point, for everything went completely dark.

_~1975, September~_

"This place is a pigsty." The feminine voice spoke into the silence of the living room.

"This isn't your place, Doris," Stan replied, staring blankly at the muted Star Trek episode being played on the television set. "What are you doing here?"

"A house call I suppose, since I haven't heard from you since the morning you told me what happened to my husband."

"Just tell me why the hell you're actually here."

"Watch your language," She replied, rocking the sleeping baby in her arms. "And, I was doing just a house call. Nobody comes out for two months, so I was just making sure you were still alive."

"What, you think I would go ahead and actually kill myself?"

She frowned. "No, I don't think you would, though I wouldn't say you wouldn't let yourself go. You actually look on the thin side at the moment and you have a beard hanging down to your shirt. Speaking of your shirt, when I was the last time you washed it? It looks like it's been through the ringer."

He sighed. "Did you seriously come here, just to criticize me?"

"No," She readjusted the bundle in her arms and Stan couldn't help but stare at him. He appeared peaceful, face scrunched up with sleep, skin pale. It occurred to him that was only the second time he had seen Alexander Pines and Stan thought he was as beautiful as the first time had laid eyes on him. Despite only seeing him twice, he loved his nephew to pieces, knowing he would do anything for the baby. "I came to tell you I'm leaving Gravity Falls."

Stan frowned. "...what?"

"Alexander and I are leaving town and going to live with family in California."

"...why?"

"There's nothing left for me here. The museum isn't paying me enough to raise a child, Fiddleford isn't quite right, and my husband is never coming back."

"You don't know that he won't come back."

"Then, why are you wallowing in self-pity?"

Stanley wasn't coming back. The portal wouldn't turn back on, no matter what he or Fiddleford did. It wouldn't ever, as it wasn't supposed to work in the first place. The theory was ahead of it's time and the only way it would operate would be if there was a supernatural interference. Such as a dream demon playing it's hand with destiny. "Why the hell are you telling me this?"

She shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. "Well, I figured since...you're...you're the only...well, you're Alexander's...uncle and I know you...and you...we care..."

Oh, she knew how much he loved his nephew, despite only seeing him twice. He stared at the muted screen once more, that familiar numb feeling returning. "I know what you mean."

Doris scratched at her cheek, freckles scattered across her pale face. "Maybe...I'll come by, just so you can see him every once and awhile."

"...what?"

"Only if you get your act together though. If I come here and it's like this, I'm just going to leave, because my son doesn't need to see anyone wasting away like this." She replied with a huff and Stan was reminded of when they had first met.

"...ok."

"Alright, well, my the bus is going to leave soon, so I need to catch it." She began to leave the Shack, baby snuggled to her chest, leaving Stan to blankly stare at the television set. She paused as she opened the door, glancing over her shoulder, whispering his nickname instead of his full name for once. "Stan?"

"...what?"

"I...I...won't tell Alexander what really happened, I'll just make up something. And, I...I..." She seemed to struggle with what she wanted to tell him, before shaking her head and leaving without another word. That was the last time he would ever see Doris Spruce, again. Stan wouldn't see Alexander Pines until his mother passed and he had to foster the teenager until he would be of legal adult age. She never did keep her word of visiting, despite Stan getting his act together in the end.

_~1975, December~_

He tittered on the edge of the abnormal cliff, staring down at the forest below it, wondering if Fiddleford would appear to recuse Stan from drowning in his own emotions. Of course he wouldn't though, as he was distracted with his own sanity slipping from beneath his feet. Thunder rolled and lightning struck in the distance, a light sprinkle of slushy snow covering Gravity Falls. Stan wore Stanley's Princeton hoodie and pair of sweatpants hanging from his frame, house slippers becoming damp from the water. His hair was shaggy and face had the beginnings of a beard present. He trembled, hugging himself, discovering his body to thinner than before. Stan could care less though, finding everything to be simply pointless in the end. And, it was the end, for he planned on dying that early morning time. Before the sun would even come up, he would be dead and he felt relief at this concept. "_Crescent, that isn't the brightest idea you've had, not counting the one when you thought making a deal with a demon would be alright._"

He stared straight forward, shadows underneath his eyes, ignoring the glow from behind. "Leave me the hell alone, Cipher."

"_Well, I can't leave you alone, or you might die, and destiny can't have that._"

"Since when do you care?"

"_I don't care; you're just part of my wheel and I need you around for that._"

No one cared any longer and he couldn't live with that. Carla, Fiddleford, Susan, Doris, and Stanley weren't around, so he had not a single soul to wonder what could possibly happen to him. "...goodbye, Stanley..."

He stepped off the cliff with no hesitation, free falling as the rain and snow splattered into his body. He felt a numbness within his head, catching a glimpse of Bill Cipher floating at the edge of the cliff, observing his fall. He made contact with the ground and for instant he felt his entire being was on fire, body blazing from the agony of impact, blood scattered across the thin blanket of snow and forest below. Then, the pain pulsed, edging ever-so carefully from his form, and he saw the glowing light. He blinked though, squinting into the darkness, raining splattering his face. "W-What?"

Bill Cipher floated above him and he frowned, as he realized what had occurred. "...I'm not dead."

"_As I told you,_ _you can't die, as you're part of my wheel, and my wheel has just begun it's movement._"

"Fuck you. That was all I had left and you took it away," He spat out, blood dribbling down his chin, then released a scream, as the dream demon vanished in a flash of light, the sun rising above him. "DAMN YOU CIPHER!"

_Chapter 24 End_

**So, I'm actually a bit nervous on this chapter and I hope you readers didn't find this back story out of character. the final part of Stan's recounting of his past. Notes included are: I feel as though Stan would be jealous of Doris intruding and find her to be a replacement of Carla to their group, though that would obviously not be the case. Doris would viewing him as nuisance, considering his personalty. As you can see in though, towards the end, they come to a bit of an understand, realizing what they do have in common was their love for Stanley. The shark movie referenced is "Jaws", which came out in 1975. The overdose amount of Vicodin is 90 milligrams or roughly 18 pills. Vicodin is typically used for those with chronic pain. When Bill would be through with his body, I imagined he healed this pain, so it wouldn't interfere with the wheel's destiny. I actually would think Stan was excited about being an uncle, but imagine that Doris wouldn't trust Stan enough to let him be around and having Stanley agree with his wife on this matter, finding Stan to be irresponsible with a child. Susan wouldn't be there for Stan after he lost his brother, as she was attempting to help her husband keep his sanity and save their failing marriage. I hope this wasn't too dark for a teen rated story. As always, favorites, follows, and reviews are appreciated!**


	26. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Translations for Spanish at bottom.  
**

_~2012, July~ _

The trio were astounded by the events recounted about one Stanford Pines' past. Despite leaving out the grisly details of his life, the children knew he had encountered a rough life and were surprised he would even tell them about it in the first place. The fact that Carla McCorkle would decide to move on without him when he was imprisoned in another country, which he only vaguely touched on, was what might of shocked them the most. Or perhaps it was the fact that what could possibly be or not be one selfish deal had caused Stan to lose control of his body, his brother, and his best friend. What confused them though was perhaps the involvement Bill Cipher had had with the Pines in the past, leaving devastation and chaos in his wake. If he was simply doing what the wheel wanted or if he found it hilarious to torment people seemed increasingly unclear to the trio, though Mabel seemed to linger on the former, while Dipper seemed to linger on the first. The last third on the trio, found demons to be untrustworthy in any situation, though would be willing to work with Bill, as long as it benefited his friends. The line of what was considered good and evil were blurring for the triangle and none could tell what his true plans were.

Mabel seemed to be the one who found words first, finishing off the last of her hot chocolate. "...Carla did save you from the bad guy then."

Stan nodded, chuckling a bit at her. He appreciate that his grand-niece had not pitied him for the details he had told them, though he avoided mentioned such details as when he had attempted suicide all those years ago. "Yeah, kid, she did."

"...that is Stanley in the other dimension then..." Dipper whispered to himself.

The elder man narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you two have to tell me now?"

The siblings glanced at one another, clearly hesitating. Mabel bit her lip, fidgeting. "Wellllll, do you remember when we told you about knowing what happened to Grandpa Stanley?"

"Yeah, I didn't think you two needed to be told what happened, but since I've told you what happened, there's no point in hiding it. I just don't understand how you kids found that out, anyways."

"Wellll, um when we told you he talked to us through our powers, we weren't lying."

Stan released a sigh after a moment, rubbing his hands together. "...alright, let's just say I believe you, even though Dipper said you didn't have anyway to show me. When I get my brother back, then he can just verify your story and everything will make sense."

"H-How a-are y-you g-getting h-him back?" Gideon quietly chimed in.

The twins frowned as they though on this question, though Dipper seemed to have a face of realization moments later. "Oh my god, you got the portal to work, again."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah I did, though I had to do some, uh, _things_ to get it working."

"Wait, what things?" Dipper questioned.

Stan waved off his question. "It doesn't matter. But, even though it has power, I still can't get it to...uh, how do I explain this? Well...uh, ok, this is how Stanley told me it was like back in the day...the portal is like a radio, that has AM and FM. The portal is currently on AM, which is the 'dormant state', while we need it to be on FM, so that it can 'connect' to where he is. Or, I guess in-between the two, since he's in a pocket dimension, as you said."

"Um, Grunkle Stan, how close are you to doing it?" Mabel asked.

"Uh, pretty close, just have to put the fuel in. Why?"

The trio all shared a pensive look, before Mabel stared into Stan's eyes. "Grandpa Stanley is in danger."

_~!4-15-5-19/1-14-25-15-14-5/18-5-1-4/20-8-5-19-5~!_

"You have to go back to Colombia to get the fuel?"

Stan had removed his glasses, setting them upon the table, rubbing the palms of his hands on his face. This stressful feeling weighting down upon his mind was beginning to take control and he was wracked with concern upon hearing that his twin would be a meal if they didn't hurry to connect the portal. He was reaching a point in his life when he was beginning to realize he was getting to old to deal with the shit he did. "Yeah, but that's were I went to jail for awhile, so I can't go back there, Mabel."

"Wait, why can't you go back?" Dipper asked.

"Never mind that; I can get the fuel, but I'm going to need a day or two if I can get who I need to do it."

"Who?" The twins questioned in unison.

"Just an old friend. They live there or at least last time I checked up on them. I'll...I'll go give them a call right now, so just give me a few minutes," Stan informed them. He didn't bothered to stick around for their replies, attempting to keep calm as he headed to the telephone. What he hadn't shared with them, was the fact that he hadn't spoken to his 'friend', since the only time he had ventured to Colombia, which was roughly 40 years ago. Though, he had gotten a letter from them about 30 years ago, informing him of the fact that the prison he had gone to was being torn down to create office buildings. He shook these thoughts from his head, picking up the phone, and licking his lips. He couldn't be sure if this number would be connected still, but it was the only number had from them. He dialed it, praying for someone to answer. A voice did, South American voice rolling into his ears. "¿Palmera Posada, en que puedo ayudarle?"

The Palm Tree Inn? It was supposed to be a fruit stand. He frowned, deciding to venture forward. "Hola ¿Se encuentra Claudine allí?"

There was a moment of silence, before the phone was hung up. He rolled his eyes. "Well, that name must mean something to you if you hang up on me."

He redialed the number, waiting for the man's voice to pick up once more. "¿Palmera Posada, en que puedo ayudarle?"

"Hola ¿Se encuentra Claudine allí?"

"...¿Quién habla?"

"Un viejo amigo. ¿Esta alli?"

"¿Ella le debe dinero?"

He rolled his eyes. Of course she owed money to people, even after all of these years. "No, solo necesito hablar con ella."

"Ella ya no se encuentra involucrada en el narcotráfico." The voice replied, an underlining tremble heard in his tone.

"Bueno, yo no trafico drogas."

"¿Es usted-?"

"Mire, ¿se encuentra o no? Tengo prisa."

"...¿Cuál es su nombre?"

"Stan."

"Espere," There was a moment of silence from the other line, as Stan anxiously waited on his end. "Ella no quiere hablar contigo."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tengo un favor."

There was another beat of silence, before an aged, feminine voice replied. "We're not supposed to be talking, Pines."

"I know," He replied, switching to English. "I didn't know you ran a hotel now."

"It's an inn and my son answered. My son, and even my grandson, who I've attempted to keep away from my past activities," The voice bitterly replied, in her Spanish accent. "And, you never answered the question."

"I just needed a favor and I need it down within a day or two at the most."

"Didn't you hear a damn word I just said? I am no longer involved with anything illegal." She hissed, voice softening towards the end.

"Yeah, well, you owe me one, especially after you left me for the police."

"I hid what you had stolen, so I already gave you a favor." She whispered.

"You wrote to me, telling me if I needed help, then to call the number you wrote me and now I'm calling you, but you won't fucking help me."

"...alright, what do you need, amigo?"

"You remember what I, uh, stole, right?"

"...Stan, if what you're asking me what I think you are, then the answer is no."

"You don't understand; I need some within the next day or two, or I'm going to..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Ok, you remember my brother right? The one I told you about?"

"Yeah, that Stanley twin, right?"

"He's in trouble and if I don't get those chemicals, he won't...he won't survive."

"...I suppose you wont tell me exactly what you used it for the first time around, are you?"

"I can't, Claudine. Just, I need you to hurry...please." He whispered hesitantly at the end.

"...Stan, I would do it, but they shut down that plant ages ago. The Chemical Weapons Convention, which most of the world is part of now, have actually banned making these types of chemicals and have made most countries destroy them by a certain time. Colombia apparently finished destroying it back in 2000, so I honestly don't know where I can find VX nowadays."

"What about your husband?"

"Stan, I divorced my husband over 20 years ago and last I heard was that he was living it up with some young chica in Brazil. And, he was involved with the Mafia, not chemical warfare!"

"Wait, did you say 'most' of the world?"

"...well, there is a rumor that North Korea has hold of a few batches, but that's _just_ a rumor. I'm not going all the way to the damn place though!"

"Shit, I don't know if I can use a substitute or not for this. I need the VX for this to work!"

"...ok, what I'm about to tell you, you will never say you heard from me, ok?"

The elder man glanced around, hoping the children wouldn't come into the room. "Yeah, I won't tell anyone a word."

Her voice was barely audible, breathing into his ear. "Colombia is unaware that there is one stockpile left. It's not being used for anything bad, just for research. Maybe I can get a certain amount to you, but it's _just_ a maybe."

He breathed out. "Thanks, I really need this, so hurry."

"I'll try my best, but the least about of days I can do this is about three days. I can't do any less and since you're banned from Colombia for even being suspected of stealing barrels the first time, then we'll have to meet up in the U.S. I'm banned from some states though, so there's certain ones I can't go to."

"Ok, which ones?"

"Are you still in Oregon?"

"Yeah."

"I can't go there."

"California?"

"No."

"Washington?"

"No."

"Dammit. Nevada?"

"No."

"Shit, Idaho?"

"Si, I can still go there."

"Boise is near the border. Four days?

"Yes, I need to go now. I swear to all that is holy though, if I end up jailed at 71, you will find yourself back in Colombian, as a prisoner." She hissed, accent thicker.

The elder man felt his heart thump painfully in his chest at the thought of returning to prison. "Adios, Claudine."

He slammed the phone back onto the jack, taking deep breathes to calm the fear he felt at her threat, heart burning with an ache he hadn't felt in years. "Not going back...not going back..."

"Grunkle Stan?" His great-nephew whispered behind him.

He startled, whirling around, heart thumping faster. He observed the trio hesitantly standing in the doorway of the room, the twins appearing concerned by his behavior, while Gideon had a hand placed over his heart, just as Stan had his. The oldest Pines found it unusual that the freckled boy mirrored his family's concerned faces, as though he had always known him. He ignored that thought though, dropping his hand, not noticing Gideon doing the same motion. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, kid!"

"Grunkle Stan, are you ok?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah, just startled me. I have some bad news though; I won't be able to get the fuel back here, until five days from now."

The three paled upon his words, Mabel crying out in disbelief. "Oh no!"

"The fuel is hard to get, so it's going to take awhile and I'm going to Idaho in about three days, so I can get. How much time do we have?"

"W-We don't know," Dipper whispered, feeling his anxiety spike more than it had in the past few days. "I-It's already been a couple of days."

"Grandpa Stanley hasn't shown up or called since then. What if h-?" Mabel began, feel tears well in her eyes.

Stanford observed the fear lining her young face, viewing himself in the 13-year-old, finding it difficult to turn away from her pain. He had been there, at a low, feeling the fear for his brother. The dangerous thoughts that sprung away in his mind about his other half's fate when he had vanished through the portal. He had pulled through though, hope of his brother coming back being returned, once he relocated one of the journals. He wasn't about to lose hope, again, though. He extended his arms, thick hands resting upon her shoulders. "Mabel, my brother is fine. If he's survived 37 years there, then he can survive five more days. Stanley is tough when he wants to be and I'm sure that he's going to be ok."

Mabel nodded, wiping her tears with a smile. "Ok, Grunkle Stan, I believe you."

Stan smiled back at his grand-niece, though her smile dropped within seconds. "Mabel?"

She seemed far away for a moment, before speaking. "If Grandpa Stanley has been there for 37 years, then why does he look all young?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't have white hair like you or any of the wrinkles."

Dipper gasped. "He sounded a lot younger than you, too, Grunkle Stan."

The elder man squeezed her shoulder, frowning. His hands dropped away and he left the room, calling over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

He went down the hall, entering his darkened room. Stan flipped on the switch, heading over to the closet, and sliding the door open. Several stacked boxes were untidily set in there, buried in dust. He shifted several of the boxes out of the way, revealing the bottom row. The elder man squatted, joints creaking in protest, and he removed the lid of the box in the center. Stacks upon stacks of loose Polaroid photos were scattered inside. He riffled through the box, plucking up a close-up of Stanley from about a year before the incident, appearing surprised in the photograph, as though not expecting someone to take his picture. He left the mess there, exiting his once more darkened room, re-entering the hallway where the phone was. The twins were whispering to Gideon, though ceased doing so when they saw him. He held the photo up to his grand-niece. "Does he look like this?"

She gasped, removing it from his hands. "Yes..."

Stan squeezed his eyes shut, realization overwhelming him. "He hasn't gotten older."

"Wait, what?" Dipper asked. "That isn't possible."

The elder Pines felt a nudge of remembrance in the back of his mind, echoing words his brother had spoken in the past, though not the full details. "Pocket dimensions are in-between two worlds, so there is no time."

"L-Like when a-a demon is i-in y-you." Gideon muttered, causing the three Pines to stare at him surprise.

"Kid, what are you talking about?" Stan asked.

The freckled boy blushed, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, ummm, uhhh..."

"Demons make you stop aging," Dipper muttered, hearing Bill Cipher's voice in the distance. He wasn't sure if it was his power to hear or if the dream demon was in the Mystery Shack. He startled himself as the rest of the sentence erupted from his mouth. "Because, they are also in-between worlds when they appear."

Gideon stared into his chocolate eyes. "Y-Yeah..."

"How did you know that, kid?" Stan questioned.

"I heard it, but...how do you know, Gideon?"

The 10-year-old pale significantly, eyes widening, lips trembling. "..._h-her_..."

"She told you?" Mabel pushed, hand brushing against his own as as sign of comfort.

"N-No." He replied, hand straying away from her's, as he eyed her face, clearly rejecting her comfort.

"Gideon..." Dipper began slowly. "H-How long was she in y-you?"

Mabel's hand reached out to rub his quivering form, as a sign of comfort once more, but was surprised when he leaned away, closer to Dipper. She felt a flare of jealously, then frowned in confusion at this emotion coursing through her. Dipper's arm, unknowingly, brushed against Gideon's, causing Mabel to internally bristle, the jealously escalating to the need to shout at Dipper to step away. She shook her head once more, focusing on the freckled boy's stuttering statement and distant eyes. "...a-a y-year..."

The tears welled in his eyes and Stan stepped forward. Despite the fact he was visibly uncomfortable with the pudgy boy beginning to cry at the memories, he squatted before him. His hands reached, gently taking hold of Gideon's forearms. The child didn't flinch, which Stan saw as an improvement, compared when he had first regained control of his body and actions. He knew Dipper had only had Bill Cipher inside him for half a day, which actually paled in comparison to how own experience, finding it closer to the amount of time Gideon had endured. Honestly, the fact he was still operating as a human being seemed to be a miracle by all accounts. "She won't ever be inside you ever, again."

The tears rolled down his pudgy cheeks, mouth partially open, voice suggesting his gratefulness. "...t-thank y-you..."

Dipper reached out, hand grasping his shoulder. Mabel felt her jealously flare, stepping towards her brother, fists clenched. She opened her mouth, intending on releasing her feelings, but was interrupted by the soft knocking at the front door. She felt her emotions die down, somewhat repulsed her her urges, observing her great-uncle opening the front door. Stan raised an eyebrow at the person lingering in the doorway. "McGucket?"

The homeless man squeezed the hat held in his trembling hands, crooked glasses on his face. "S-Stan?"

The Oldest Pines' eyes widened at his nickname and gulped when he was overwhelmed with a strong emotion. "F-Fiddles?"

_Chapter 25 End_

***Spanish Translations in order of conversation:  
"Palm Tree Inn, how may I help you?"  
"Hi, is Claudine there?"  
"Palm Tree Inn, how may I help you?"  
"Hi, is Claudine there?"  
"...Who is this?"  
"An old friend. Is she there?"  
"Does she owe you money?"  
"No, I just need to talk to her."  
"She is no longer involved with drug trafficking."  
"Well, I don't do drugs, so it isn't a problem."  
"Are you-?"  
"Look, is she there or not? I'm sort of in a hurry."  
"...What is your name?"  
"Stan."  
"Hold on. She doesn't want to talk to you."  
"Tell her I have a favor."  
**

**Alright, to start off for notes of this chapter, I'll begin with that I became extremely frustrated with the direction this chapter headed in and ended up writing it three different times, before I was satisfied. I'm honestly not sure if it had to with the fact that I interrupted the plot with a set of flashbacks or another cause, but it frustrated me to no end. The Chemical Weapons Convention is actually real, with nearly 200 countries involved with it and bans chemical weapons/sets date for when to destroy them. VX is a "nerve agent", which is the most toxic of all "chemical warfare agents", originally used as pesticides. Warfare agents are used in, you guessed it, wars. In liquid form, which is the form that Stan needs for the portal in this story, it is lethal upon contact with the skin. And, finally, one reader asked me about the type of music I listen to when writing this fanfiction (I'm surprised you readers care about that type of stuff!). Typically, I listen to jazz (ranging from the old school sort to modern day) or classic rock, but lately I've been listening to Fleet Foxes, which reminds me of Gravity Falls. As always, favorites, follows, and reviews are appreciated!  
**


	27. Chapter 26

_Chapter 26_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Stan felt overwhelmed at the sight of his best friend, obviously coherent, being washed over with optimism. He hesitated, nearly lurching forward to smother him into a hug, yet resisted the urge to do so, not wanting to fully get his hopes up that his friend had fully returned. Simply because Old Man McGucket was calling him by his nickname, instead of his full one, didn't mean he remembered shit about their past. For all Stan knew, he was only having a slip of a tongue, accidentally calling him "Stan", instead of "Stanford Pines" as he usually did. "What, uh...what do you want?"

The homeless fidgeted at his tone, eyeing the children behind Stan. "I...wished to speak to you."

The speech pattern seemed to be sophisticated, much as when the pair had originally knew one another. He stepped aside, opening the door wider, daring to hope the curator had returned to his senses. "Yeah, come on in..."

Fiddleford hesitated for a moment, before complying. Stan peeked out into the darkness of early morning, feeling a chill as he did so, as though someone watched them from the forest. Stan frowned, aware that his senses wouldn't lie about this. He hastily closed the door, turning around to the group. Mabel was grinning at McGucket, waving excitedly. "Good morning, Mr. McGucket!"

"Ah, h-hello, Mabel, I...I suppose it is morning..." The man replied, giving a tentative smile in return. He nodded over at Dipper, avoiding eye contact. "G-Good morning, Dipper..."

Dipper nodded back, noticing his oddly timid behavior to be out of character for Old Man McGucket. "Um, good morning."

Fiddleford spied Gideon, who hid behind the brunet 13-year-old, clinging to the back of his t-shirt, glancing around awkwardly. He adjusted his glasses with his free hand. "Oh. I-I didn't know Gleeful's son was friends with, uh, you t-two."

"Yeah, we're the best of buds!" Mabel exclaimed, stepping over to the pair, hooking her arms around their shoulders.

Dipper laughed. "Uh, yeah, I guess what Mabel said."

"I, um, see," He replied, squeezing his hat tighter, frowning. "Um, Stan, um, may we speak...p-privately?"

"Yeah, yeah, uh, do you want to go to the dining room?"

"T-That, ah, will work."

Stan nodded, glancing at the children. "I think its about time you gremlins go to sleep."

"Awww, but Grun-" Mabel began, but was cut off by her great-uncle.

"Now."

Mabel made a pouty face, before turning to Gideon, tender smile spread upon her lips. She grasped his sleeve, whispering into is ear breathlessly, as though she had been in a marathon. "You're ok."

He gulped, lips twitching upwards for a moment, before she released him, smile dancing fervently across her face. Dipper frowned at her behavior, observing her form as she disappeared down the hallway, to retire for the night (or morning in this case). Dipper glanced away from her, before jerking a thumb up the direction of the stairs. "Come on, Gideon."

The other two went up the stairs wearily, leaving the elder men alone by the front door. Stan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling tense about the situation he had been presented with. "Uh, so, we can go sit down at the table, over there."

The pair sat on opposite sides of the dining room table, awkwardly silent. Stan observed the broken lenses of Fiddleford's glasses, realizing they were his spare pair. It had occurred to him that after 37 years, he would still have them, despite not ever wearing them in that time. "Uh, do you want your other pair of glasses? I guess you left them here, back then, and I sorta found them the other day."

Fiddleford shrugged, eyes lingering on the filthy and beaten hat he held. He set it on the table, hands clasping together, thumbs beginning to twiddle. "I-I would appreciate that."

"I'll be back...just going to get them..." Stan muttered, heading to his room. He opened the top drawer of the side table, next to the bed, revealing the pair to be set in there. He lifted them up, with tenderness, then slammed the drawer shut. He re-entered the room, discovering McGucket to be staring at the light fixture above the table. The intensity he was doing it made Stan feel unsettled, as though there was nothing more captivating in the world, than that light hung above him. "Uh, here they are."

He startled, then gave a timid smile as he was handed his glasses. He removed his spare, as Stan sat back down, and put on the unbroken ones. "Oh...I can...can see better now."

"Uh, good," Stan replied, crossing his thick arms across his chest. There was another beat of an awkward silence, until Fiddleford's stomach growled, causing him to blush. Stan couldn't help the bark of laughter that erupted from deep within his sternum, breaking the tenseness. "Looks like you don't have to talk, cause your stomach is already doing for it!"

"I-I-um, oh, I-" He spluttered out, causing Stan to laugh louder at his flustered behavior. It occurred to the elder man at that exact moment, that his best friend had returned at last, allowing himself to be flooded completely with optimism. He stood up, extending his arms for a hug. "Come here, you nerd."

Fiddleford's blush receded and visibly eyed Stan with hesitation. "Come on, I won't stand here forever."

He was startled when McGucket began to have tears welling in his eyes, hand clenching at the pant legs of his torn overalls. He bowed his head, gasping out his words. "I-I'm sorry!"

Stanford felt a familiar burning of emotion swell within, at the sight of his best friend breaking down, sobbing brokenly. Stan stepped closer, wrapping his arms around the frame of the frail man. "Hey, enough with the crying, it's ok."

"N-No it's not, S-Stanley!" He cried, hands clenching at the back of Stan's wife beater.

Stan tensed, though he didn't pull away from the hug. "...what did you just call me...?"

"Oh my god, Stanley, I-I thought y-you were gone f-forever!" The curator sobbed into his shoulder. The image of Fiddleford screaming at him wavered into his mind. He was shoved away, with strength he was unaware his friend had. It was his fault and Fiddleford kept screaming this at him, waving around one of his arms in a cast. His hair was disheveled, eyes roving about wildly. They should of been comforting each other, as they both fell apart. Fiddleford, losing his sanity, and Stan, losing the will to live. He grew angry though and forcefully shoved back. He shoved the man into the wall, causing him to tremble in fear, and Stan to feel horrified by his own behavior. It was too late though, Fiddleford screamed at him to leave his house and he didn't hesitate in doing so.

Stan couldn't react with anger this time though or history would repeat itself all over again. Despite his indignation that Fiddleford remembered his brother, but not him, the elder man patted his friend's shoulder. "I...I'm back now, everything is ok...everything is ok..."

_~!9/1-13/18-21-14-14-9-14-7/15-21-20/15-6/20-8-9-14-7-19/20-15/19-1-25!~_

"Robbie, sweetie, we need to talk." His mother spoke up, as the family sat down for breakfast.

Fork hovering over his pancakes, Robbie raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that like what we're doing?"

"Son, this is actually serious." His father informed him, Robbie staring intently at him. His eyes drifted to the cover story of the newspaper he held. "**JURY STILL DEBATING ON WHENEVER BARNEY GRIEVOUS DESERVES LIFE IMPRISONMENT OR THE DEATH SENTENCE. COURT MAY SEND CASE TO U.S. SUPREME COURT**". He glanced away, gulping compulsively at the headline, feeling somewhat nauseous at the reminder of that sickening situation. He had heard Gideon Gleeful was with the Pines' as a foster child.

Mind returning to his parent's behavior, it occurred to him that is mother called him by his nickname and his father called him 'son'. Beginning to feel a sinking his stomach at their unusual choices of his name, he set down the fork. "W-What's going on?"

His parents glanced at one another, sharing a saddening look. His mother spoke softly, leaning across the table. "Before we begin though, we just want you to know we love you and this isn't your fault."

"Mom, what's going on?" Robbie asked, feeling unsettled by her words.

"We're getting a divorce." His father stated bluntly.

The teenager stared at his father, then to his mother, who nodded to confirm what was stated. "...is that all?"

They blinked in surprise at their son's behavior, while he began to eat his chocolate chip pancakes. "Uh, son, we uh..."

"We thought you would be upset, sweetheart?" His mother concluded.

Robbie shrugged. "Well, you two are like adults, so if you're getting a divorce, I can't really stop you."

"You aren't upset?" His father pressed, setting down the newspaper.

"Not really. It's not like you guys are dying or anything, so why would I?"

"Oh, well, um, sweetie, since we're splitting up, we need to ask you a question." Robbie's mother continued, watchful of signs that Robbie was about to begin crying.

"What?" He asked, cramming a forkful into his mouth.

"Which one of us do you want to live with?"

He shrugged. "I don't know? I guess I'll think about it."

His father reached across the table, resting his palm upon his son's arm. "Son, are you sure you're alright?"

His arm slunk away, setting itself into his lap. "Yeah, fine."

"Sweetie?" His mother whispered, causing him to become uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna go work on some of my music." He replied, finishing his pancakes. Neither of his parents halted him from leaving and neither of them would come to check up on him for the rest of the day. He spent at least an hour, staring at the wall by his bed, remembering words his father told him when he was nine. It occurred to him, that they had probably wanted a divorce since he was little, but didn't want to upset him. Robbie felt like he never wanted to talk to anyone ever again. At the same time though, he wanted someone to make him actually feel happy, even though he didn't deserve it. None the less though, he found his cell phone in his hands, thumb hovering the Pines' number. He thought about Mabel. He remembered how she cheered him up, after his break up with Wendy. He felt whole, after she set him up with Tambry. It didn't surprise him in the end though, that the pair began to dislike each other once more. She had finally broken it off yesterday and despite hating her once more, he missed feeling happy.

He didn't deserve it though. He didn't deserve to be happy. His thumb pressed the "**CALL**" despite these thoughts and he let it ring. He was startled when a irked voice answered on the other end. "What?"

The 16-year-old choked on his words. "Is this those girl scouts, again? How many times do I have to tell you I don't want those darn Thin Mints?!"

He hung up, throwing his phone across his bed with a sigh. He wrapped his blankets around his body, eyes clenched shut, realizing he had forgotten his migraine medication. He reached out a hand from his cocoon, opening the top drawer of the side table. His head began to pulse, the beginnings of a migraine hitting him, as he grasping the bottle. The medication wouldn't do anything for him now.

_~!-?-!~_

Stan hung up the phone, glaring hatefully at the receiver. He didn't know if it was those pesky girl scouts or not, but either way he didn't have time for this. His phone only rang when it was something important, since people didn't usually want to chat with him. He had assumed it was Dick, giving an update on Mrs. Gleeful's-Grevious'-condition. Now that he was fostering Gideon, he would be given updates on her state and hopefully be informed one of these days that she was no longer a comatose. That had yet to happen and it had been a near two weeks since that night.

"S-Stan?" He was startled by the voice of Fiddleford behind him.

"Sorry, phone call, from, uh a buddy of mine. You feeling any better?"

"Um, a bit, uh, I'm actually slightly parched. May I trouble y-you for a glass of water?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I should get you something to eat too, you gotta be hungry." Stan replied, heading to the kitchen.

Fiddleford followed him, waving one of his hand. "Oh, y-you don't have to! I-I'm not that hungr-"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Shut up, nerd. I can hear your stomach growling from a mile away."

Fiddleford blushed heavily as they entered the kitchen and he covered his stomach with his hands. Stan opened a cabinet, removing a glass jar. He began to fill up the jar, glancing over his shoulder at the ex-curator. "What do you want? I could make some pancakes, but that will take awhile. I have stuff for PBJ's an-wait, I forgot that we're out of peanut butter an-"

"S-Sta-"

"Or I can scramble up some eggs and you can try some of Mabel's weird juice, though I wouldn't drink a lot if I were y-"

"S-Stanley!"

Stan ceased his speaking, mouth clamping shut. Fiddleford blushed, appearing sheepish. "I-I'm sorry, but I don't think I can eat much and, um..."

"Yeah...Sorry, I just...yeah..."Stan shut off the facet, hanging his head over the sink, releasing a sigh. His friend had been eating scraps from trash cans all these years, while he had grown plump from decent meals. He felt a bit sick, thinking on the times he had witnessed Fiddleford doing this, and hadn't even blinked at it. He shook his head after a moment, picking up the glass, and turning to his friend. "Do you just want some toast?"

The curator fidgeted with his hands, then nodded, accepting the glass with a muttered "thank you". "P-Please."

Stan realized at that moment, why exactly the whole situation was off as it was. Fiddleford's behavior had reverted back to the original state he had been when he had first met him. Before the incident, they were at a point in their friendship, were they could fake fight and call one another names, without any regrets after. Fiddleford wasn't aware of this though, believing him to be Stanley, as Stanford didn't seem to exist in his mind. Stan would likely have to act as Stanley did, when the pair were friends. He smiled tenderly, feeling slightly embarrassed that his mouth could even smile in that matter, and softened his voice. "You don't have to be so nervous around me, Fiddles, I'm you're friend. And, you just cried on me, so I think we're already past that."

Fiddleford nearly spit up his water back into the glass jar, turning a shade of red in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorr-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" Stan interrupted, realizing that wasn't the way Stanley would phrase that.

His friend hadn't seemed all that alarmed by his behavior though. "T-That may be a type of defense mechanism I've attained, likely to cope with my mind not working as effici-"

Stan tuned him out at this point, opening the fridge for bread. He had nearly forgotten Fiddleford's own father had been a psychologist, which was where he always got these observations from. He plopped a slice into the toaster and placed it to a low setting. He decided to listen in to what Fiddleford spoke of. "-ather always said that when people edge towards this behavi-"

Still talking about that. He shook his head, removing the toast and setting it on a plate. He frowned, realizing his friend had ceased speaking. He turned around, plate in hand. Fiddleford was staring intently into space, eyes far off into the distant. "Shit, not again."

He set the plate onto the counter and grasped the ex-curator's thin arm, guiding him back to the kitchen table. After Fiddleford had sobbed into his shoulder, he had been in this is state for two hours. Stan had nearly called 911 at that point, but realized they could do nothing for his mind. Not even a psychologist could help, as they might find his ramblings about the supernatural to be a illusion of his broken mind. He knew these "blank outs", as he was labeling them, wouldn't cease their appearances, so Stan hadn't any idea what to do. He sighed, setting his friend and himself into the chairs. Stan removed his glasses, placing them on the table top, and buried his face into his hands. "God, when did everything go so wrong?"

The elder man startled, when he heard a floorboard creak, and glanced up from his hands. Gideon was frozen in place, in the entry way of the kitchen, appearing frightened at being caught. "Why are you up? It's been only two hours since I sent you kids to bed."

"I-I, um, o-" He began to stumble away.

"Hey, hey, come here," Stan waved him over. The freckled boy froze once more, staring at Fiddleford with confusion and concern. "He's fine, just come here."

Gideon nodded after another moment of hesitation, halting before the elder man. Stan reached out, taking hold of Gideon's forearms. "Fiddles here, he's been through something, too. You know how he usually seems totally off his rocker?"

The 10-year-old nodded. "Well, he wasn't always like that. Something happened and he lost his mind. Well, that, and erasing his mind over and over again did that. But, I was the one that started it. He's getting better though. Sort of. He keeps doing this whole staring at nothing thing. Anyways, I think I know why you aren't sleeping. Fiddleford began to have nightmares, repeating what happened. I'm guessing you're having nightmares, too, huh?"

Gideon bit his lip, whispering. "...I-I k-keep s-seeing t-things."

"What things?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tears welled in his eyes, slipping down his freckled cheeks as he spoke. "I...I still see _h-her_ when I...I close my e-eyes...and my...my D-Daddy, too...I w-wish my M-Ma...never h-had me..."

"Hey, hey! I don't want to hear any of that ever again, you hear me?"

Stan could feel the quivering throughout the child's frame, rubbing his hands up and down in a comforting gesture on Gideon's arms. "B-But, i-it's t-tru-"

"Ok, look, do you want to die?"

"W-What?

"Do you want to die?"

"N-No." Gideon gasped out, tears dripping off of his pudgy face, as Stan nearly sighed in relief from his answer.

"Then why do you wish you were never born?"

His eyes squinted, lips pinched."I-I...j-just...i-it h-hurts!"

"Hey, I know, trust me, I know a lot things hurt, but that doesn't mean that you never being born would be a good thing. If you weren't ever born, Dipper and Mabel would miss having you as a friend. And, who would of taken the beatings your pops dished out that were meant for your mom? I'm right, aren't I? He usually went after you?"

"Y-Yes, h-ho-?"

"You see, another thing you and Fiddles had in common, were that he also took most of the beatings. I didn't know him then, but he told me he would stop his mom from hurting his pops. His pops had this heart thing, you see, and he wasn't able to do anything very physical, so his pops couldn't defend himself from her when she got mad and you...you know what that's like, huh?"

Gideon nodded, releasing gasping sobs. "I-I d-didn't p-protect M-Ma! T-That's w-why s-she left!"

"Left? Wait, hold on just a second there. What are you talking about?"

"I-I d-didn't s-save her w-when s-she w-was s-screaming a-and t-that's w-why s-she l-left!"

Stan vigorously shook his head. "No, she didn't leave."

"W-Why d-doesn't a-anyone t-tell m-me w-what h-happened t-to h-her?" He cried out.

"Ok, sit down, right here," He commanded the 10-year-old, pointing at the empty seat his left. Gideon immediately complied, releasing continuous sobs as he did what he had been told to do. Stan hesitated for merely a moment, before wrapping his arm loosely around Gideon's shoulders as he leaned in closer to the quivering boy. "Listen to me when I tell you she didn't leave you. You haven't been told a whole lot, because you aren't old enough to hear some of things that happened to her. What I can tell you is that she had her head hit and it sort of...scrambled her head a bit."

Gideon stared at him in horror, whispering. "L-Like a-an e-egg?"

Shit. "Shoot, not like that, uh I mean like, uhhh...her head just got bumped and that made her fall asleep, so that her head could fix itself."

"A-Asleep?"

"Yeah, but nobody can wake her up, until her body wants her to, that's why she hasn't been around."

"S-Sleeping?"

"Uh, sometimes when people hit their head, they fall asleep, so their heads can get better."

"W-When w-will s-she w-wake up?" He asked, wiping his nose across the back of his hand, staring up at him with innocent eyes.

Stan sighed, well-aware he couldn't lie by this point in the conversation. "Well, sometimes they don't, because sometimes their heads don't get any better."

"...h-how l-long?"

"How long what?" He questioned, frankly surprised about how the 10-year-old had been taking this.

"U-Until t-they k-know h-her h-head w-won't g-get b-better?"

"Uh, that's sorta hard to say. I've heard stories about people waking up like 20 years after, but other ones never wake up."

"Oh."

"Look, it sucks, I'll tell you that much. But, Mabel and Dipper will be there for you and, uh, if you ever need to talk to someone besides them, you can...uh, talk to me, sorta like we're dong right now. Just don't tell the them I told you this or they'll probably start thinking I care about them." He whispered.

Gideon released gasp of laughter, lips quirking upwards momentarily. He wiped his eyes. "...t-thank y-you."

Stan squeezed his shoulder. "No problem."

They were unaware of Fiddleford returning to consciousness, gulping back the memories overwhelming his senses, clouding his mind with confusion on the matter of memories clashing together. One held Stanley and Stanford as twins, while the other only had Stanley Pines, an only child. He didn't question Stan about it, horrified about discovering how truly broken his mind was.

_Chapter 26 End_

**First off, I would like to introduce my new beta, who will be sure I correctly write out my Spanish when I use it. ****Aldecaalfi, thank you for being my beta for the Spanish in the previous chapter! Next, I had to rewrite this chapter twice, which I find to be an improvement compared to the last chapter. I apologize for the gap of time since the last chapter, but I'm going to be frank when I say I'm in a difficult situation at the moment and every time I get a favorite or a follower or a review, I feel a bit better during this unfortunate time of my life. I honestly appreciate your support and hope you all continue to enjoy this story as it progresses.  
**


	28. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Slightly graphic material, when Stan goes to the attic to speak to Gideon.  
**

Gideon Gleeful glanced across the table, as Stan pulled his arm away from him, realizing Fiddleford's eyes were focused on the present and roving about the interior of the kitchen. His eyes made contact with his own, and he glanced away, feeling confusion and anguish wash over his senses. He couldn't quite process why the homeless man was engulfing himself with these feelings, but they pained Gideon to feel them. Stan noticed moments after the 10-year-old did, that he had returned to consciousness. "How you doing over there, Fiddles?"

The ex-curator gave a hesitant smile, eyes ceasing their movement, appearing as though he was attempting to keep control of his emotions. "I-I'm fine. D-Did I interrupt something?"

"No, we're done anyways. You want that toast now?"

"I-I would appreciate it."

As Stan passed over the plate from the counter, he observed Gideon, causing to squirm at the attention. "You hungry?"

He shrugged in reply, stomach churning from the thought of consuming anything after the memories that washed over him in his dreams and Fiddleford's emotion momentarily overwhelming his senses. "N-No."

"Suit yourself. I'm guessing you ain't going back to sleep though, are you?"

"N-No."

"Wanna go get me the newspaper from outside then? It's eight now, so it should be out there. Just hope that frickin' racoon doesn't steal it, again..." Gideon nodded, immediately leaving the room, and going outside into the early morning light. He spotted the newspaper a few feet from the porch and rushed over to pluck it off the ground. He glanced at the headline and froze. The newspaper trembled in his hand as his lips pressed together, eyes wide in horror. The image of his father, in suit and tie during the trial, smirk spread across his face, stared up at him. Gideon felt all the blood drain from his face and glanced away, stomach nearly losing it's contents.

The figure in the attic window caught his attention, distracting him from his horror at viewing his father's face. Mabel was there, hand pressed against the glass, smiling ecstatically down at him. Her other hand came up in a wave, fingers dancing back and forth as they did so. Gideon couldn't exactly place why he was beginning to feel uncomfortable around her, but he honestly wished he didn't. He forced down the discomfort and waved back. As she left from the window, he headed back into the house, handing the newspaper to Stan. The elder man glanced at the cover story, then observed him. "You alright?"

He nodded, feeling lightheaded from his earlier horror at viewing his father's face and perhaps Mabel appearing in the window. Perhaps he could try to nimble on toast, as Fiddleford was doing so at the moment. "...c-can I-I...I-I...?"

"You want something to eat?"

"...y-yes, p-please..."

"Toast?" Stan continued for him, plopping down the newspaper on the tabletop, as he headed over to the toaster.

"P-Please." Gideon replied anxiously, before hesitatingly sitting across from Old Man McGucket. The elder man glanced up from his toast, offering up his emotions to the 10-year-old once more, his senses acquiring the feelings of anxiousness. The eyes of the younger darted away, focusing on the newspaper instead, eyes skimming over the paragraphs. Words and phrases stuck out to him, dauntlessly searing themselves into his mind. "**MURDER**", "**THIRD WIFE**", "**BARNEY GRIEVOUS**", "**UNBORN CHILD**", "**BEATEN UNRECOGNIZABLY**", "**DEATH SENTENCE?**", "**LIFE IMPRISONMENT?"**. He created a clattered from the table, as he stood, hands grasping onto the edge of the table.

Stan whirled around, observing him, as his shoulders heaved. "...you sure you ok, kid?"

"I-I t-think...g-going t-to s-sleep." He muttered, removing himself from the room, and heading up the staircase. His heart began to thump, feeling the confusion and concern from the kitchen wafting over to him. As he headed to the attic though, these feelings drifted away, replaced by the urge to change his clothes. He entered the room silently, unsure on what his powers were informing him of. He glanced over at Dipper's bed and it occurred to him that Mabel was supposed to be sleeping downstairs, not in the attic. Why would she be waving up at him from here then? There was a pulse of emotion to his left, distracting from these thoughts, from the closet. Changing his clothes? His clothes weren't even in the closet, their was just storage in there. Gideon's heart thumped wildly, as if it wanted to break free. His hand closed around the handle, causing it to rattle as his hand shook. He twisted it, swinging it open and stared inside. His face began to pale at the sight he witnessed and all of the emotions shut down completely.

_~!-?-!~_

As Dipper came into consciousness, he became aware that the soft snores of Gideon were not heard and he rolled over, revealing the freckled boy to be on the other bed. He rubbed his eyes, as he focused on his stricken friend. The light seeping into the room from the triangle room, created half of a shadow on his face, the other half engulfed by the light, revealing freckles he hadn't noticed before. "Ugh, what time is it?"

The freckled boy didn't reply though, staring at the wall behind him. He frowned, releasing a yawn. "What's wrong?"

Dipper received a whimper instead of words and began to feel the edge of anxiety snake into him, fully waking him up. He immediately rolled from his bed, sheets slipping off onto the wooden floor, stumbling over to the other one. He reached out, hand brushing against his friend's arm, somewhat frightened by the dazed expression on his face. "G-Gideon, are you o-ok?"

"I...I..." He whispered, eyes wide, tears welling.

The brunet trembled, pulling his arm way, aware that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was rushing from the room and down the staircase, without a word, feeling his anxiety flaring at the freckled boy's behavior. He burst into the kitchen, not taking notice of the startled reactions from the elder men at the kitchen table as he did so. "G-Grunkle Stan!"

Stan immediately knew that whatever had occurred was causing Dipper to feel the effects of his anxiety. He was over to his grand-nephew in an instant, hands resting on his shoulders, eyes darting around his figure as he watched for the cause of distress. "Woah, what's going, kid?"

"G-Gideon is a-acting weird a-an-" Dipper broke off, panting slightly.

"Hey, don't start doing that. He's probably just scared. His pops was on the newspaper this morning and it scared him. I can go talk to him though, ok?" Dipper bobbed his head up and down vigorously, anxiety reducing. Stan leaned in, lowering his voice as he spoke in a hush. "Just watch McGucket, ok? If he stops talking or says something weird, just, uh, ignore him."

"O-Ok." Dipper replied, eyes darting over to the homeless man staring intently at the light above the kitchen table, as Stan headed to the attic. Upon arriving in the bedroom upstairs, he discovered the 10-year-old on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall behind Dipper's bed. He settled himself besides him, feeling his joints creak.

"I'm guessing you aren't ok then."

Gideon stared forward, whispering. "...i-is D-Dipper c-coming?"

"No, why? You want him to?"

"N-No!" He cried out, his voice returned to a calmer state though, continuing to stutter. "...r-red...i-in t-the...c-closet."

"The closet?" He questioned, beginning to open it, revealing what was inside the cardboard boxes stacked inside, disappearing into the darkness within. Stan reached for the dangling cord for the light, pulling it, click barely heard from above, and froze. His lips parted, breath leaving him in a whoosh as he witnessed the sickening sight. There were lifeless squirrels hanging by their tails, with sewing thread, from the ceiling inside. Blood was matted around where the eyes should of been, though all that was there were empty sockets. Their blood dripped steadily against the floor below, from their sockets and gaping mouths. Stan clicked off the light and stared into the darkness, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He closed the door, covering his mouth with a trembling hand, steeling his nerves against the nausea. He removed his hand, observing Gideon as he buried his face into his own hands. He thought he would hear him sob, but he released a series of whines instead. "K-Kid?"

"I-It's s-so r-r-r-r-red..." He stuttered, muffled sounding.

"G-Gideon, come here."

"I-I c-can't..." He whimpered, before lurching forward, causing Stan to stumble forward to catch the unconsciousness child. The traumatizing sight must of caused him to pass out and Stan couldn't blame him. His own hands shook, as the images of the squirrels danced before his eyes. He laid Gideon across his bed, legs trembling as he left the room, avoiding the kitchen, as he headed to the phone in the area by the front door. He picked it up and dialed the hospital with trembling fingers.

"St. Wentworth." The feminine voice intoned.

"I-Is Dr. Thompson there?"

"No, it's his day off. Would you like to leave a message?"

He hung up without a reply to the woman, breathing deeply. A moment later, he dialed the Thompson household, and a his wife answered after a couple of rings. "Thompson household."

"C-Can I talk to Dick?"

"My husband actually went for a walk. Are you one of his friends? Patients?"

"No...yes? Uh, j-just, uh, tell him that Stan c-called. And, that it's i-important."

"Of course...are you alright? You sound a bit breathless. I could always go find h-" Stan released a heaving breath as he hung up. Jesus, was this what Dipper felt like all the time? It was difficult to breath and he couldn't get the image of the lifeless animals from his mind. He gagged a bit and covered his mouth, spit dripping down his chin. He wiped it away and entered the kitchen, face blank.

"Grunkle Stan, Mr. McGucket is doing that thing you said he was going t-" His grand-nephew began.

He completely ignored him, ripping open one of the kitchen drawers. He snatched out a battered pack of Pall Mall cigarettes and a lighter. He decided that when the children would come for the summer, he wouldn't smoke or drink around them, though he hadn't drank in years. Wendy and Soos had caught him a couple of times smoking, but figured it was alright to do it around them, considering their age. He couldn't give a damn though about Dipper's age for the time being, because he needed to clear his head. He nearly sprinted from the house, grabbing a bath robe from the hook by the door, wrapping around himself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He opened the pack and his hands violently shook as he pulled one out it. He light it and inhaled deeply, releasing a series of coughs as he did so, lungs not used to smoke after being clean for at least three months. His heart was burning violently as regrets haunted him and blood appeared in his mind. He pressed the cigarette to his hand, finding the burn to be a distraction from his pain. "G-Grunkle Stan?"

He jerked the cigarette away, realizing self-destructive tendencies had returned and he felt horrified by the fact that his 13-year-old great-nephew had caught him in the action of it. He decided to act as though nothing had happened, inhaling the cigarette once more, the coughing lessened. "What?"

"A-Are you o-ok?" Dipper questioned from the front door, sounding nervous, as though his anxiety was swelling.

He couldn't do this to him, he couldn't. "Yeah, fine. Gideon got scared about a dream and he, uh, sorta fell back asleep. Tried calling Dic-Dr. Thompson, but he was out."

"O-Oh...Grunkle S-Stan?"

This damn kid and all his damn questions. His voice came out harsher than intended, but he never saw the flinch, as he was faced towards the forest. "What?"

"Um, uh, um, w-why were you b-burning yourself?"

Shit, shit, SHIT. He whirled around, face etched with anger. His voice came out in a low hiss, intending on causing his grand-nephew pain. "I didn't do that, Jason."

He witnessed the flinch this time and immediately regretted the choice of name, as Dipper's face hardened. That was when he saw it; himself reflected in the 13-year-old's face. He was heading down the same self-destructive path he was on. Holy shit, Dipper was him. "Dipper, I'm...I'm sorry. I just...sometimes I get mad about nothing and I..."

"...i-it's ok..." Dipper whispered, face saddening, his soft voice reaching his hearing aids.

"...kid, come here," Dipper was beside him a moment later, without any hesitation, and Stan reached an arm around his frame. The cigarette left his lips and he pointed it into brunet's face. "Don't ever smoke these. They're bad for you."

"I-I wasn't p-planning on to," Dipper's eyes shifted back to the doorway, releasing a cough. "Um, G-Grunkle Stan?"

These damn questions were never going to cease. "What now?"

"Was O-Old Man McGucket c-crying last time he did that s-staring thing?"

Stan frowned. "No, why?"

"Oh...um, h-he's crying right now."

Stan jerked his arm away and stared at him with wide eyes. "What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?!"

"Uh, I-I came o-out and you were hurting your arm a-a-"

He ignored the rest of the stuttering sentence emerged from his lips and was already in the kitchen, cigarette clamped between his lips once more. Fiddleford had tears rolling down his thin cheeks, into his beard, distant expression on his face. His hands fluttered over his friend, hesitant to touch him anywhere, in fear of his reaction to touch. It was at that moment, the phone began to rang. He glanced towards the hallway and back to his friend, unsure of which to pay attention to. "Dipper!" The brunet was behind him a moment later, appearing concerned. "Get the phone, will you!"

He finally reached out to touch his arm, leaning in to shake him gently. Upon contact with his skin, Fiddleford jerked away, causing to chair to topple over. He scrambled to bring it steady as his friend released a yelp of surprise, while Stan released a curse as his joints pained him from gravity bringing the chair to the side. "S-SHIT!"

His grand-nephew re-entered the kitchen, cord of the phone stretched taunt. "G-Grunkle Stan, it's D-Dr. Thompson."

Double shit. He glanced over at the dazed ex-curator, clinging to the wooden chair, as brought it back to standing position, then to the phone Dipper held. "Go wake up your sister and tell her to go watch Gideon!" Stan snatched the phone from the brunet, as he sprinted down the hallway. He observed Fiddleford removing his glasses and began to rub at his moist eyes, hands tense. "Dick?"

"Stan? My wife said you called earlier and sounded quite upset."

"Yeah, sorry, but, uh, something happened, well a bunch of somethings, but Gideon saw them, and I can barely help my great-nephew when he's all pani-oh, he has anxiety, I don't think I told you, but Gideon is crying and I-"

"Stan! Stanley! Slow down! I can barely understand a word you're saying. All I got was that Gideon is panicking about something and that Dipper has anxiety."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and made eye contact with his best friend. He glanced away from Stan, thumbs beginning to twiddle as his hands settled themselves upon the tabletop. "Sorry, but there's Gideon and uh, a friend of mine is having a hard time with something."

"I'm sorry to hear about that, but what exactly has gotten Gideon so worked up about?"

"Well, um..." He exited the kitchen, whispering into the mouthpiece, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, nervous about anyone in the house discovering what was in the closet. "The kids' room is in the attic you see and Gideon opened the closet and found...um, just..."

"Stan?" Dick probed.

His skin felt clammy and moist as he remembered the dead woodland creatures upstairs. "...t-these dead animals, Dick and their e-eyes...well, there e-eyes are g-gone..."

"...dead animals?"

"Yeah...and t-they had all this b-blood around th-" The images of Bill burning his flesh, the younger him, with a lighter as he howled inside his own head came to mind, blood dripping down his arms, whispers of how the injuries will go away through the supernatural powers of healing. He turned his head from the mouth piece and released a gag, but kept his reflexes under control. He turned his mouth back and continued. "H-He's passed out though, but I sent Mabel to watch him and, uh, the other kids don't know what's up there."

"Ok, I'm more in the medical range when it comes to being a doctor, but I think you should take him out of the house when he wakes and...you need to get rid of the animals, before your grand children see them."

"I know, I know, but one of my old friends is here and he's...he's a bit out of it. He has these issues and I haven't talked to the guy for a long time and Jesus Christ, I need a goddamn drink, Dick, God, I haven't have needed a drink this bad in awhile and...I..."

"Stan, calm down, I'm coming over right now to help. Do you have any alcohol in the house?"

"N-No, I never have any, because of..." He hadn't kept any bottles in his house for years, fearful of becoming an alcoholic like he had been back in the day. He usually didn't show anyone weakness, but Dick was his doctor, so of course he would know about the drinking problem.

"Alright, I'm coming. Just don't go to the store and buy a-"

"I'm not, I'm not..." He replied quietly hanging up, as he removed the cigarette from his mouth.

"G-Grunkle Stan, do you want me to watch Old Man McGucket?" Dipper asked from behind him.

He had heard the floorboards creak this time, Dipper entering the room as he spoke the last sentence on the phone, so he hadn't been startled as was per usual as of late. "Yeah."

He left the room and Stan inhaled a puff deeply as his hand shook, Bill cackling in his ears. He couldn't, no, he couldn't go back there, he just couldn't. He had to block out the dancing triangles before his eyes, the world turning into triangles. When entering the kitchen, he found Dipper in the middle of it hyperventilating, and his best friend missing. Stan was immediately crouching in front of him, hands rested upon his heaving shoulder. "Hey, hey, I can't have two kids getting themselves worked up about something like this. What's going on? And where did McGucket go?"

"I-I'm sorry! I-I came i-in and he was g-gone! I-I-" He broke off into a series of gasps and Stan nearly cursed aloud, wondering where Fiddleford could of possibly gone.

"Ok, just breathe, kid. Want me to tell you a story? I could tell you about the time I went one on one against a grizzly bear the size of Timbuktu!" He joked, wanting to display that he wasn't upset with Dipper that his best friend had left. He opened his mouth to speak and inhaled the smoke drifting from Stan's cigarette into his mouth. He broke into a series of coughs and then produced a choking noise. "Shit!"

He threw the cigarette to the title floor, standing, and stamping it out with his slippers. Dipper wasn't breathing though, lips a tinge of blue and caused Stan to panic. Stan reached out, cupping the 13-year-old's face in his hands. "Jason Dipper Pines, if you don't breath right now I'm gon-"

His grand-nephew's eyes rolled upwards and began to seize. "Shit, not again!"

The seizing began to increase in violence and he laid him out across the floor, pushing the table away from him. "Goddammit, I'm too old for this shit!"

He found it to be a miracle that neither Mabel nor Gideon could hear his cursing from upstairs, considering how high he had raised his voice. He couldn't give a damn what they heard at the moment though, because he was probably going to have an ulcer from the stress he had having lately. The doorbell rang and he nearly cried from joy. He had completely forgotten that Dick was heading over here and he sprinted to the front door. He thrust it opened, revealing the doctor's surprised face. "He's having a god damn seizure!"

"What? Who?"

Stan grasped the 45-year-old by the arm and practically dragged him into the kitchen, revealing the trembling brunet spread out across the floor. Within seconds, Richard Thompson was knelt beside Dipper, hands hovering over his form, before pushing him onto his side. "Approximately, how long has he been in the generalized tonic-clonic state?"

"Speak English, Dick!"

"How long has he been seizing?"

"I don't know? Like a minute or two?!"

"How many times has he done this?"

"Like, the second time this summer! He was having a panic attack before this though and then he started doing _this_ an-"

"Psychogenic NES."

"English!"

"You said he has anxiety. It's not from epilepsy and it was caused by emotional distress. Did he hyperventilate before this?"

"Yeah and then he stopped breathing!"

"Judging from the way his chest his heaving, I'll have to say he's breathing now. Is Dipper medicated?"

"No, Mabel said he didn't react good to them! Can we stop with the twenty questions and do something?!"

"There isn't much I can do at the moment, but if it goes on for more than five minutes, I'll have to call back up paramedics here."

"Jesus, Dick, there has to be something! You're a doctor for Christ's sake!"

"I'm not a miracle worker, Stanley. What I do need you to do though, is calm down. You screaming doesn't actually help the situation in any way."

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, when my grand-" Stan fell silent though, when the seizing came to a halt.

The doctor's hand pulled a medical flashlight from his front pocket of his slacks and pulled up an eyelid of the unconscious 13-year-old. "Pupils are dilating... pulse is a bit erratic, but seems to be steadying...he's going to be fine."

"Jesus, I think I'm gonna have a stroke."

"Stanley, you're not going to have a stroke. And, we should move him somewhere more comfortable."

"Yeah...let's do my broth-my spare room down the hall." Stan replied, fixing his slip up in hopes the other wouldn't notice.

It seemed he succeeded, as the other was now observing the kitchen. "Where is Gideon and Mabel?"

"Up the stairs, end of the hall, up in the attic. I'm going to lay him down," Stan replied, calming down, and picking up Dipper effortlessly. Stan left the doctor, entered the hallway, leading to his brother's room, observing the features of his great-nephew. He had dark shadows underneath his eyes, that never quite seemed to leave from his young face. His characteristic unruly Pines hair was darker than his own had been when he had been Dipper's age. He appeared innocent to Stan, but was aware that he felt the need to carry the world on his shoulders. He knew his worries would age him early, as it had done so to himself. "Geez, kid..."

He laid him out across the couch upon arriving in Stanley's room. He looked at room, actually_ looked_ at it, remembering when his brother had disappeared. Stan had slept (or least attempted to with the haunting nightmares) in this room for months, missing the scent of his twin. It had faded though, as time does a great many things in life and he decided he couldn't bare sleeping there any longer. He boarded up the room, knowing he would never view the contents ever again. The elder man had only regained hope, upon revealing the journal to be hidden in the kitchen, strangely enough underneath the kitchen sink, finding it when he went from the bug spray to kill these ants stockpiling themselves in the front yard.

The cabinet pressed up against the wall was cracked open, his strained reflection staring back at himself. Piles of books were stacked on either side of it, ranging from chemistry to physics in their descriptions. A wooden oak chair laid near by. Rows of videos were on a self to the left, Disney, Star Trek, and classics mixed together, some his, some his brother's. On top of the self laid a handful of records and he picked up a few. "With his Hot and Blue Guitar" and "At Folsom Prison" by Johnny Cash, "The Original and Great Carter Family" by The Carter Family, "Wednesday Morning 3 AM" by Simon and Garfunkel, "The Free Wheelin' Bob Dylan" and "The Times They are A-Changing" by Bob Dylan, and "Moanin' the Blues" by Hank Williams. He pulled up the oak seat and settled himself onto it, "With His Hot and Blue Guitar" record in hand. The record player beside the stack appeared more modern than the one he owned, considering his belonged to his mother and Stanley insisted on getting his own new one. He removed the disc from the sleeve and a slip of paper tumbled into his lap. He put the record on, needle touching as it went in circles, and plucked up the paper. The writing was aged, ink somewhat faded, and he realized it was Stanley's.

"**_Stop stealing my records, Stanford!_**"

As the the deep bass-baritone voice of Johnny Cash echoed throughout the room, the strum of the guitar filled his ears, Stan buried his face into his hands and broke down for the first time since he attempted suicide, the memories he conveyed to the children, overwhelming him. "_When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry..._"

_Chapter 27 End_

**Notes (more like useless fun facts) for this chapter include the following; A generalized tonic-clonic or grand-mal seizure is the classic type of seizure that most know about, where the entire body convulses, though their are a variety of seizures that do not involve this. Psychogenic NES means that it's and non-epileptic seizure and that it typically stems from a psychological issue, such as a panic attack. I imagine Stanley Pines would be the type the was into folk and country music, which is why I chose the albums I did. I honestly am not a big fan of country, but if there is anyone country musician I can listen to for days on end, it would be Johnny Cash. Stanford would be into more of the classic and southern rock brands (not to mention some disco, considering his get-up in that Double Dipper episode), such as Led Zeppelin and Creedence Clearwater Revival, though he probably enjoy Johnny Cash as well, considering how the man had dipped into the rock genre as well. The Carter Family included June Carter at one point, who had been married to Johnny Cash for over 30 years. As always, reviews, followers, and favorites are appreciated! **


	29. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

Dipper's eyes were half-lidded, groggily brought back into awareness, body sore from his seizing. His throat ached with a thirst that needed to be desperately quenched. He noticed Grunkle Stan was in an oak wooden chair, legs propped up against a shelf in front of him, foot tapping to the beat of Johnny Cash's "Get Rhythm". His lips mouthed the words, face barely heard as he sang along, flipping through a beaten book labelled "**Relativity: The Special and the General Theory**" by Albert Einstein. "Come on, get rhythm, when you get the blues! A jumpy rhythm makes you feel so fine, it'll shake all the trouble from your worried mind!"

His eyes wearily drooped shut, as someone entered the room, beginning to speak. "Johnny Cash; good taste I have to say."

"Yeah, belonged to a relative of mine. How's Gideon?" Stan asked, turning down the volume of the music.

"He was still unconscious, but physically nothing is wrong with him. Mabel wanted to stay until he woke though." Dipper recognized this voice to be Dr. Richard Thompson's.

"Ok...when do you, uh...suppose I should get rid of...you know?" His great-uncle asked, sounding hesitant.

A sigh. "When the children aren't around...Do you still feel like drin-?"

"No, no, not any more. It was just a moment of weakness, I don't need any now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I had another smoke and started doing some reading, so it went away when I wasn't focusing on it."

"That's good...I should check over Dipper now and try to wake him," He replied and a moment later, the brunet felt a hand checking the pulse on his throat, well-aware that the doctor would be able to tell if he was awake. It appeared his hunch was correct, as he began to speak directly to him. "How are you feeling?"

Dipper fluttered open his eyes. "...t-tired..."

"Having a seizure does that. Are you thirsty?" Dipper hummed in reply, shutting his eyes. "Stan, can you get a glass of water for him?"

"Yeah, hold on..." His great-uncle replied and he heard him exit the bedroom.

"I know you just woke up, but I need to know if this has happened before?"

"...few times..."

"Do you know how many?"

"...s-seventeen..."

"Ok, do you have any signs it's about to happen? Any weird smells or sights or tastes for example."

"...can't b-breath and taste b-blood..."

"Ok and do you know why they happen?"

"...they told m-me it was b-because of my a-anxiety."

"Who?"

"...the d-doctors."

"You've been to the hospital for this then?"

"...p-psych w-ward."

"So, you've been institutionalized?"

"A-A year."

"For your anxiety?"

"Uh-huh...t-tired..."

"Ok, that's all the answers I needed. Here, I'll help you sit up."

He felt arms begin to wrap around his shoulders, but he shrugged them off. "I-I can do it."

His eyes opened and he struggled to sit up, limps trembling and sweat appearing on his brow, as he pushed himself upwards. Stan lingered in the background, hand extended with a glass of water, and he realized he hadn't even heard him return. Dr. Thompson removed it from his hands, observing the brunet. The man reached out, glass brushing Dipper's lips, and he sipped greedily. His hands lashed out, taking the glass, chugging it. The glass was pulled away from him and he frowned. "Slow down, Dipper. You'll make yourself sick."

The 13-year-old nodded, slouching down, head lying on the arm rest with a sigh. His ears buzzed, as though he was in a crowded area, such as a baseball stadium. He couldn't focus on the voices, but they were beginning to cause his head to pulse. Stan's voice shredded through the background noise. "You feeling alright, kid? You look sorta green."

Dipper eyed the doctor, before replying. "J-Just tired."

Grunkle Stan nodded, facing to Dr. Thompson as he spoke. "I think we got it from here, Dick."

The other man observed the pair, before nodding in agreement. "Yes, I can see that. I'll be seeing you later then."

The doctor began to exit the room, hand on the door, as he glanced over his shoulder. "If you need anything, be sure to call, Stanley."

Dipper's great-uncle never replied as the doctor left, instead opting to sit on the couch, beside the 13-year-old. He was surprised as his hand began to card through his thick hair, comforting him. "You scared me, kid."

"I-I'm sorry..." He whispered, eyed filling with tears.

"Hey, stop that. As long as there isn't any more big surprises, I won't be mad with you." His hand massaged his scalp, causing him to release a sigh of relaxation.

He knew he couldn't keep secrets from him any longer. "...s-sometimes I'm not D-Dipper."

"What's that mean?" He questioned, frowning down at his grand-nephew.

"Sometimes I-I'm someone e-else."

"Ok, kid, I don't understand _what_ that means exactly, but I'm just gonna count it as babble, considering what just happened to you."

Dipper's hand reached upwards, taking hold of Stan's hand, pulling it away from his head. "Sometimes, I-I'm J-Jason."

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Look, I know you don't like it, but that's your real name."

"I-It was, but now it's h-his name instead. I-I'm Dipper."

The hand pulled away from his own, resting into the elder man's lap. "Go to sleep."

"G-Grunk-" He was hushed though, blanket being spread across him, engulfing him with warmth.

"Now." He couldn't help the drooping of his eyes, commanded to lull him to sleep, causing the buzz to fade completely, darkness overtaking him. Stan, meanwhile, was honestly concerned about his great-nephew's words, not quite sure what to believe on the matter. Frankly, his great-nephew sounded delusional about such a claim. He knew he needed to speak to Mabel about this matter and knew it couldn't wait, even if Gideon was still unconscious.

He made his way upstairs, halting before the door, hearing whispering. Stan frowned, before swinging open the door. He swore he saw Mabel sitting on the bed, before the now awake Gideon, but in a flash, she was beside the bed. "...what are you two doing?"

Mabel's hands were gripped behind her back and she titled her head in confusion. "What?"

He observed Gideon, discovering the child's freckled face to be a shade of red, hair unkempt, eyes wide. He couldn't imagine either of them doing anything inappropriate to one another, but Mabel was a teenager now, and he knew how they could be. He hadn't ever thought Mabel would be the type of person to engage in such activities at her age. "If you two are doing what I think you are, just stop."

"Stop what?" His grand-niece asked and he frowned at how truly confused she sounded.

"Never mind. I just need to talk to you, sweetie."

"Uh, ok?" Mabel replied, appearing as puzzled about his words, as she headed down the staircase outside.

"...are you ok, kid?" Stan asked, taking in the flustered 10-year-old's face, once Mabel had left the attic.

"...I-I'm f-fine." He whispered, lying back down, and burying his head underneath the blankets.

"If you say so..." Stan entered the landing of the attic, shutting the door behind him, observing his innocent grand-niece. "...You're getting at that age, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Listen, I think we need to talk about a little something involving the birds and the bees. I have this book that I could show yo-"

"NO! NOT AGAIN!" Mabel cried in horror, sprinting down the stairs and leaving a stunned Stan behind.

"What the-? Wait, just a second, Mabel!" Stan sprinted after her, grasping the back of her collar as she headed down the stairs in a frantic attempt to escape from him. "Ok, you obviously know what I'm already talking about, though I don't know who told you, but I actually have a question about your brother."

Mabel glanced up at him, automatically appearing concerned at the mention of her twin. "What? Is he ok? Did he have another panic attack?"

"Well, yeah, but that wasn-"

"Oh my god, where is he?!" She cried, twisting from his grip.

"Mabel, he's fine. That isn't what's important right now. I need to know if he's ever told you about...not being himself?"

The brunette's eyes flickered in recognition. "...what did he say?"

"Uh, something like, 'sometimes I'm Jason' or som-" Stan began, only to be cut off my Mabel.

"He told you?" She whispered in awe.

"Wait, what?"

"Oh...Grunkle Stan...sometimes, Dipper isn't Dipper...h-he's Jason."

"Ok, I know, but _what_ does that mean, kid?"

"...he...they're different people...no different' personalities'."

"...are you telling me your brother has many people disorder or whatever that's called?"

Mabel frowned. "You mean multiple personality disorder?"

"...uh, yeah, that. Just tell me if he has it or not."

"No, it's not like that. Um, Dipper and Jason used to be one 'personality', but the pieces of their 'personality split' when he, um...hit his head."

"Hit his head?"

"Um, he tripped one day," Mabel replied suspiciously too quick for Stan's liking. "Jason told me that they were were opposites of each other. Dipper is 'light' and Jason is 'dark'. It sounded sorta like Star Wars, so, um, it took a few times for me to understand that. Jason says everyone has a 'dark' and 'light side', but they're always one 'personality'. They aren't supposed to be two different people."

"...seriously, what else are you two keeping hidden from me?" Stan probed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Grunkle Stan, only I-I knew about that one. No one else. N-Not even the hospital people." She explained, appearing anxious, biting her bottom lip.

"...you want me to keep this secret, huh?" He knew exactly why, considering how deranged this notion seemed even to him.

"P-Please, if mom and dad hear about this, they might think there's something really wrong with him, but Jason is only trying to keep Dipper safe, even if it doesn't look like it." She rambled on, clenching her fists.

"Woah, woah, slow down! I haven't even met this Jason. At least not yet, so I don't know jack squat about him." He gestured his hands in a placating gesture to calm her.

"Y-You won't, unless he actually wants you to." She explained, wringing her wrists.

"And, how do you make him want you to?"

"You have to...be like him...or do something he finds interesting."

"Like what? Playing chess? He already sounds like Dipper."

"No, just...Grunkle Stan, no. I don't want you to meet him." She replied, fervently shaking her head, hair swinging around her.

"And why not?"

"C-Cause, you won't like him."

"How do you know that?"

"P-Please, don't force him. If you do, he might get upset. I don't want him to...have a meltdown." She muttered the end of her sentence, though Stan could hear her.

He realized that this may be true, considering the panic attacks Dipper had, Jason could suffer from a type of meltdown. He decided he wouldn't push him for the moment, especially since he had to take care of the business he had nearly forgotten about. "Ok, ok...just, go downstairs to him, I need someone to watch him just in case something happens."

Mabel appeared relieved, before switching into her excited state she usually preoccupied. "Okiee doke!"

She sprinted down the remainder of the staircase, disappearing from his sight. Stan rolled his eyes at her energetic behavior, before retracing his steps back to the attic. He entered, discovering Gideon was still buried underneath his blankets, hands peeked out from the top of the comforter. "You still awake?"

The blankets squirmed, before his chubby face peeked out, eyes squinting at him. "Y-Yes."

"Dipper had another panic attack and fell asleep. He might want to see you when he wakes up. He's down in my gue-uh, brother's room if you want to see him."

Gideon shoved the blankets away, hair sticking in every which direction, appearing to be sleepy. "O-Ok...a-are y-you g-going t-to...?"

Stan nodded, observing the bobbing of the freckled boy's adam's apple. "Yeah...are you sure you're alright?"

Gideon's eyes welled with tears, sniffling. The elder man sighed, settling himself on the edge of the bed beside his feet. "I take that as a no. Look, I could tell you some stuff like 'just forget about it' or 'everything is ok', but that would be a waste of time. Here's what we're going to do. Close your eyes."

"W-Wh-?"

"Just do it." He grumbled, covering his eyes with his hand.

"O-Ok."

He removed his hand a moment later, revealing his pale eyelids. "Ok, now imagine the scene."

Gideon trembled, tears leaking out, as he gasped. "N-No, p-please, I-I-"

"Those squirrels are the ones that they make into chew toys for dogs," His face scrunched up, though he no longer gasped. Gideon snorted and shook his head, trembling reducing. Stan smirked, realizing that this seemed to be effective. This was a technique Dick had told him worked, usually on children due to their imaginations, to make an event less traumatic. "That blood? Yeah, it's ketchup," He observed the freckled boy's nose scrunching in distaste. "Don't like ketchup? Well, it's Mabel Juice now."

Gideon's shoulders remained tense, though his lips were beginning to turn slightly upwards. He reached out, ignoring the flinch as his hand was set upon the back of Gideon's neck, and rubbed comfortingly. The tension drifted away, shoulders dropping. "Just think about all those pieces of the memory changing, each time you can't stop thinking about it."

Gideon's hand grasped at the the side of his wife beater, squeezing the fabric. "...t-thank you, M-Mr. Pines..."

"None of this 'Mr. Pines' crap. Just call me Stan or whatever."

His royal blue eyes fluttered open, hand twisting the material nervously. "O-Ok, S-S-S-St...S-Stan."

"Good, now, go downstairs and join Mabel, so you two can wait for Dipper to wake up." He told the child, removing his hand from the neck, beginning to stand.

Gideon continued to cling though, attempting to pull him back down to sit, crying out. "N-No!"

The elder man's automatic response was to go back down, in an attempt to save his wife beater from being stretched out. "Woah, woah, what's wrong now?" His mouth opened, forming soundless words, sweat breaking out along his face. "Uh, are you gonna have, uh, a panic attack like Dipper? Your face is starting to look sorta re-"

"N-No," Gideon finally managed to squeak out, before releasing his clenched fist from the fabric. "D-Dipper w-would w-want t-to s-see M-Ma-Ma-Mabel f-first."

"You could still be there, you know. They seriously don't mind if you are around them. You probably don't realize it, but they really like you a whole lot." Stan informed him, attempting to have Gideon understand that he didn't have a reason to be so reluctant around the twins.

"N-No, I-I d-don't n-need t-to..."

"So, let me get this straight; you want to stay in here, while I...you know...?" He gestured to the closet.

He caught the desperation on the child's paling face, before he shook his head. "N-No, I-I...g-going t-to w-watch T-TV..."

Stan raised an eyebrow at his behavior, observing as Gideon left the room, feeling somewhat confused on the freckled boy's line of thought. Another a memento passed, he was at the closet, taking a few deep breathes. He opened the door, detaching himself from his emotions. Stan reached out, snatching the body of one of the squirrels, sewing thread snapping, the corpse squishing in his hand. He proceeded to yank all the woodland creatures from the closet, dropping them to the floor. "That's the last one..." He dropped the final one, but it bounced off the pile of animals, flying underneath Dipper's bed. "Great, now I have to clean underneath there, too..."

Stan frowned at the bed, before getting on his hands and knees. His hand's reached underneath, frowning as he attempted to find the squirrel. He sighed, laying flat against the floor, cheek laid upon the floor as he looked underneath. The smell of floor cleaner overwhelmed his senses the moment he inhaled and he frowned deeper. "Why the hell does the floor-?"

The floor cleaner underneath the sink. His hand froze, touching the corpse of the squirrel, face draining of blood. Someone used floor cleaner in the attic. That was why the jug was completely empty. The abundance of dead animals would have taken quite of an amount of chemicals to clean, especially if blood stained the wooden floor. One of the twins killed the squirrels, using floor clearer for the mess. They removed their eyeball and strung them up for someone to fin-Stan gagged, the images of little hands digging into the head of a dead animal. He cursed, choking on a gag. "S-ugh-hit!" He threw the squirrel from out underneath the bed struggling to sit himself up, wheezing from the effort. Stan glanced at his hands, revealing blood on them, beginning to feel like he would honestly throw up now. "Con-ugh-trol it, Stan...breath...the kids didn-ugh-'t-do it..."

Stan steadied himself, piling the corpses into his arms, skin stained in blood now, aware that he had to remove the color soon. He dropped them on top of a spare blanket from the closet, wrapping them inside to hide them. Stan threw the sack of the creatures over his shoulders, peeking out of the room, cautiously watching for any sign of the children as he headed for outside. The eldest Pines headed to the tool shed, plucking up a shovel. Stan then headed to some underbrush nearby, beginning to dig underneath it. The ten minutes it took him to create a hole for their corpses felt too long and he dumped the entire bundle into the hole. He glanced around for any witnesses, before beginning to bury them, sweat already pouring down his body. The shovel was caked in blood by the end of it and he realized he could wash it, as he's taking a shower. Stan entered the house, locating another jug of floor cleaner, headed back upstairs to mop up the mess.

By the time he was finished with the entire mess, sweaty, covered in blood, panting, he was exhausted. He headed to the bathroom near his room, locking the door behind him. He glanced at his weary face, before reaching up, touching it, blood smearing across his cheek. Bill Cipher laugh echoing around him, causing the elder man to shudder. "Y-You're in control...you're in control..."

He didn't feel like he was though.

_~!-?-!~_

"Dipping Sauce? Are you waking up?" Mabel asked her brother, poking his cheek as his eyes fluttered open.

His hand shot out when she repeated the action, squeezing her finger until it hurt, growling. "Don't do _that_."

"Oh, you don't like that, Jason?" She began to poke him with her other finger.

Jason swatted away both her hands, frowning at her. "If you do that, again, you won't like what happens."

"You planning on breaking them?"

"No, I plan on ripping the damn things off."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Language. And good luck with that."

Jason swallowed, grimacing as he sat up. "God, I feel like...ugh..."

"Well, that's what happens when you have a seizure, dork."

"Ugh, your voice is like ten thousand bees against a cheese grater. Just shut the heck up." He growled, rolling over and burying his face into the couch.

"...Jas, um, do you...want to meet Grunkle Stan?" She hesitantly asked, changing gears.

"The old man?"

"Um, sure."

"Why not? It will be amusing to work him up." He replied, rolling back over to reveal his mischievous smile.

Mabel frowned. "Jason, no. If you work him up, I-"

"What? Try to give me a bloody nose, again? I wanna see you do your wors-"

Mabel reached out, grasped onto a lock of his hair, and ripped it from his head. Jason howled in agony, grasping at his head. "WHAT THE HE-?!"

She flicked his nose, silencing his curse. "_I can still hurt you, hon. Don't work him up or I'll pull out more._"

He glared up at her, as she smiled sweetly at him, lock of hair in her hand. His glare melted away and he frowned. "..._who_ are you?"

Mabel's eyes flashed a bluish hue. "_Ah, very perceptive, doll. You're more interesting than little Pine Tree is._"

"Just answer the question!"

"_I am Jill Rephic, hon. And your snarky attitude is soooo cute!_"

"Get the hell out of her." He growled.

"_Now, why would I do that? Mabel is such a pretty young lady!_" Jill cooed, twirling a lock of hair with one hand, stroking her own cheek with the other.

"You're disgusting. I swear to god, if you don't get out of her, I'll kill you."

"_Now, Jason, how would you do that, without killing her? I honestly believed you had more mind inside that lovely head of your's,_" She replied, sniffing the lock of his hair, eyeing him. Jason swatted at her hand, causing the lock of hair to flutter from her hand. Jill's face darkened. "_You should never hurt a lady._"

"You're hurting her by possessing her body!" He exploded, leaning forward.

"_What she doesn't know, doesn't hurt her. I've been inside her for a week, yet she isn't aware of it. Though, it seems her subconscious is aware, since she keeps staring at her little dainty hands. Perhaps me playing around with those precious little creatures wasn't a great idea, but, oh well._"

"What did you make her do?" Jason's scrunched up in disgust.

"_What she desires deep down; to inflict pain!_" She giggled.

"You're sick!"

"_Oh, but hon, I know that. I am me, after all. I embrace it thoroughly though, yesss!_" She hissed, lips spread across her face in glee. Jason lurched up from the couch, ignoring the sharp pain of his tense muscles, jumping on top of Jill. His legs hugged her sides, hands throttling her neck, panting. Jill continued to giggle, though it sounded choked. "_Y-You're so adorable when you're angry! I absol-_"

The dream demon's voice was cut off with a series of chokes, as he applied enough force to silence the air flow through her mouth. "Shut the hell up!" Her smile vanished, lips a shade of blue, beginning to buck underneath him, hands wildly attempting to remove his hands from her neck. He only realized that she was no longer Jill, when he stared into the chocolate brown eyes. Jason instantly released her neck, rolling off her. Mabel released a symphony of choked coughs and wheezes, stroking her abused neck as she breathed deeply. "...well, at least you're aliv-"

Mabel reached out, grasping his collar, pulling him down to her. She smacked Jason across the face with her free hand, heaving as he stared at her in surprise. "D-Did you just smack me across the face?!"

She shoved him away, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Bring Dipper back."

"Oh, come on. I've done worse things than chok-"

"_Now,_" She hissed and he was silenced as a chill rolled down his spine, feeling as though Jill Rephic spoke to him instead of his sister. "Bring him back _now_."

He gulped, staring into her usually gentle eyes. He realized with a start, that this was the true Mabel, underneath the facade she placed on herself. This was the Mabel he had developed an interest in, finding her personality to be similar to his own, her dark side calling out to him. This was the dark side that had grown to detest the world, a sadistic plan for those that angered her. Her light personality was hanging by a thread at the moment and Jason knew it would be wise to retreat into the recesses of his mind, pushing Dipper to the forefront. He disappeared into the darkness, the last glimpse of consciousness staring into her eyes. And Dipper woke, revealing her snarled face inches from his own. "M-Mabel?"

Her snarl edged off, smile spreading across her face as she embraced him. "Don't ever leave, bro-bro."

While Jason Pines had been rejected, simmering within the confines of Dipper's mind, Jill Rephic had embraced the subconscious of Mabel's soul, awakening her dark side.

_Chapter 28 End_

**I apologize for the wait, but I had a bit of writer's block. Anyways, I should be able to fit in one more chapter, before I start college, which may or may not affect the amount of time between updates. Depending on how well I adjust to my new schedule between work and school, my updates may be the same or take longer to do so. As always, reviews, followers, and favorites are appreciated!**


	30. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.**

As Mabel clung to him, his body was wracked with trembles of adrenaline coursing through his system, Dipper felt as though he had been betrayed. He couldn't quite identify if it was fear or anger he had experienced earlier (or was it Jason?), but his heart was thumping wildly. He was himself, perhaps Jason, that much couldn't be answered for him, because the lines constantly blurred in his mind. He hoarsely whispered his confusion to his twin, feeling the warmth of her body against himself. "W-What are y-you talki-?"

"I'll make sure that Jason never comes back." She whispered, stroking his hair.

He abruptly pushed her away, clinging to her shoulders, body aching from the shivers and the seizure he had endured before. "W-What do you m-mea-?"

The brunet's eyes widened, taking in the sight of his sister's abused neck. The print of his hands, fingers spread across the flesh, were beginning to bruise, taking on a darkening hue. Her breath was slightly labored, as though having a slightly difficult time to breathe through her swollen airway. Dipper jerked his hands away, leaning away from Mabel in horror. "O-Oh my g-god..."

"It was Jason. You don't have to worry th-"

"I-I strangled y-you..." His eyes were distant, wide in shock.

"Dipper, it's ok. You didn't do it, Jason did." Mabel reached out, taking his hands in her own.

"I...I...am J-Jason." He managed to stutter out, pulling his hands away.

His twin frowned. "No, you're Dipper and you would never do thi-"

"I AM JASON!" He screamed vehemently, shoving her backwards, causing Mabel to fall onto her bottom. "WE'RE THE SAME PERSON!"

Mabel blinked in surprise. "No, no, he used to be, but now yo-"

"I KNOW EVERYTHING HE DOES AND HOW MANY TIMES HE'S HIT YOU AND SOMETIMES I WANT TO DO THE SAME, BECAUSE YOU WON'T STOP LYING!"

"Wha-?"

"YOU PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE ELSE AND WON'T TELL ME WHO YOU REALLY ARE AND I CAN'T TAKE IT!" He cried, burying his face into his hands.

There was such a stretch of silence, that Dipper would have assumed she left, but knew her better than that. He heard her whispering, voice low, edgy, no longer filled with the warmth of her comfort. "You don't want me to stop pretending."

His hands dragged down from his face, looking up at his sister. Her eyes appeared dark, thundering with an strong emotion. "I don't want you to know what I think sometimes."

Dipper licked his lips, feeling his explosion he experienced, die down. "...I-I do k-know though."

"And, what do you think I think?"

He gulped, attempting to speak through the lump in his throat, heart thumping painfully in his aching chest. His sister observed him, a faint glimmer of darkness deep in her eyes, the edge of her true self peeking out, reaching for him. He felt Jason begin to stir within and summoned the strength to speak. "I saw you... you...in the s-second grade...p-put the cleaning stuff the j-janitor had into...J-Jake's milk a-after he made f-fun of me for l-liking...to do m-math for f-fun during recess instead of...p-playing with the other...kids..."

_The images of the past overwhelmed her senses, revealing the truth of the matter. She was sat next to Jake during lunch, everyone was focused on their friends, instead of her, as she snatched the open carton from his tray. She had the spray bottle of the window cleaner, that she had swiped from the janitor right before lunch, underneath the table. Mabel kept her pleasant smile spread across her face, as a girl beside her began to tell her about the cartoon she watched last night. She laughed at her friend, to cover up the noise of her spraying into the milk. Her friend glanced away and Mabel's hand shot out, placing the carton back onto the tray. As Jimmy turned back to his lunch, sipping the milk, Dipper loomed in the background, holding his tray, the seemingly pleasant smile remained on her face, even as Jake began to throw up across the cafeteria floor, choking violently._

"...A-And, what you did t-to F-Frank."

_The image of the elementary school playground swam into view, a rows of trees lined up in the field, hiding anyone from view of the playground. A pair of children were there, the dark skinned child in front of Mabel rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms. Though she couldn't hear the words in her vision, her memory supplied them to the vision. "You're such a liar, Mabel. You can't see anything like that. Ghosts don't exist!"_

_"I do see them though! I'm not a liar!" She cried, hands on her hips.  
_

_"Whatever, I'm going to go hang out with Sarah now," Frank declared in annoyance, beginning to leave the row of trees. The vision supplied her reaction, not tainted with the memory of her anger that had consumed her at that moment. She reached out to a tree, grasping onto a branch close to the ground and tugged on it, face formed into a snarl. There was a snap, as it came loose and she toppled over. Frank began to whirl around in surprise, at the noise, but came face-to-face, Mabel lunging herself at him. He released a scream, as she smacked him across the back with the branch, causing him to fall onto his chest. He rolled over, hands rising defensively over his face. "STO-"_

_"I-" She began, a smack across his legs, causing his body to spasm in pain._

_"-AM-" A smack across to the side of his head, silencing his screams._

_"-NOT-" A smack across his chest, knocking the wind out of him._

_"-A LIAR-" A smack to his head once more, releasing a cry of agony._

_"-YOU-" A smack to his arm, his eyes flooded with tears, as it broke._

_"-JERK!" A smack to his face, causing blood to erupt from his nose._

_"M-Mab..." He whimpered._

_She dropped the branch, stooping down to him, glaring furiously, as she hissed into his face. "If you tell anyone I did this, Frank, I'll hurt you worse next time. You're just gonna tell them you fell outta the tree, ok?"_

_His head feebly bobbed up and down, before falling to the side, as he breathed through the pain he was enduring, body twitching. Behind the tree a few feet away, was Dipper, clenching his copy of "The Diary of Anne Frank", eyes wide as he had observed the assault his twin had committed. Mabel pleasantly smiled at the now unconscious Frank, before skipping off to the playground, humming a tune to herself.  
_

As she returned from the vision, she swallowed thickly, observing her tense brother. "...You know I think about hurting people when I get mad then."

"Y-Yeah."

"And that...I...like it..." She whispered aloud, ashamed of her impulsive revenge schemes she had committed.

Dipper nodded, leaning forward, voice wracked with emotion. "T-That's why...Jason likes you...part of me likes it...b-because part of me is l-like that."

Mabel licked her lips, finding her mouth much too dry to speak any longer, tension thick in the air. Her brother, reached out, taking her hand, and she witnessed the switch from Dipper to Jason before her eyes. "I'm the same way."

Her chocolate brown eyes filled with tears. "I-"

The gentle grip on her hand became firm, confining, Jason's face warped with disgust. "You think it's funny hurt people though, ones that don't deserve it, and I won't let _you_ be inside her any longer!"

The change was imminent, forcing Mabel into the recesses of her own mind, Jill washing over her senses. Mabel wouldn't remember though, she never did, and her mind couldn't handle what happened next if she did. Jill grasped Jason's forearm tightly, pulling him forward, as he attempted to break free from her restricting grip. Her eyes glowed a bluish hue, smile spread tauntingly across her face, as she bashed her forehead into his own, causing the world to be engulfed by the darkness.

_~!20-8-5/5-14-4/9-19/14-5-1-18!~_

Dipper blinked rapidly, colors dancing wickedly across his vision, before frowning as he realized he was surrounded by darkness. He felt panic grip his heart, as he studied his surroundings, then glanced down at his hands, discovering he could see them, despite the dark. The panic calmed, feeling less horrified by the notion that he was surrounded by the never ending black, due to being able to see himself. The darkness began to recede though, revealing a thickened forest of pine trees surrounding him in every which direction, twilight approaching in the distance. "Wha-?"

"Dipper!" He heard his own voice scream with panic from behind.

He whirled around for the source of the voice, stumbling back as he found himself face-to-face with a bluish hued star instead. She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek, and whispering playfully into his ear. "_Boo!_"

The brunet lurched away, hearing the whisper echo throughout the confined space, head throbbing painfully. He saw a mirror image of himself, with darker eyes, sprinting over to them, fear etched on his face. The star wasn't a star any longer though. The star was a voluptuous appearing woman, with pure white hair framing her heart shaped face. Her sparkling bluish dress glistened, as if in the sun, the top cupping her chest, a split along the leg of the dress. Her high-heels were pointed at the end, a thick boa wrapped around her neck, as she giggled. "_Hello, again, darling!_"

Dipper backed away in horror, staring at Jason in the distance, watching as he seemed to gain no distance, despite his desperate sprint through the trees to him. His attention was transferred to Jill, leaning forward, grasping his face with one hand, his cheeks squished between her fingers, nails digging into his flesh. "_I cannot allow you interfere with my plans any longer!_"

He trembled, sweat rolling down his face, the entire forest shaking, as if in the middle of an earthquake. His head throbbed painfully, causing him to pant wildly to be able to breathe. Dipper didn't know what the dream demon was doing to him, but it felt as though his head was splitting in half. The brunet attempted to pull away, but was stuck in her grip."S-St-Stop!"

He tried to push her away, hands pressed against her stomach, but felt weakness engulfing his body, as his pants thickened. Her voice dripped with sweetness, a tidal wave of relaxation consuming him. "_Sweetie, relax. Stop fighting. You only need to drift off, go to sleep._"

The brunet's eyelids drooped, pants beginning to ease out, drifting into the forest surrounding him, earth and trees blurring into one. His body loosened, going slack in her hand, feet dangling across the ground beneath him. "I...stop...he...help...M-Mab...Grun...'Tan...Jas...on..."

His eyes shut, his body flickering away from existence, as Jason found the distance to be missing now, directly behind Jill Rephic. The forest had flickered away, just had Dipper, replaced by a looming staircase, he stood at the bottom off. Jason couldn't breathe, observing the stairs that had birthed his existence. He heard a voice whisper from behind, breath hot on his ear, moist with eagerness. "_Looks like you're running the club, darling._"

Jason felt arms wrap around his body, hands flush against chest, as he began to tremble, sweat caking his skin. "L-Let go!"

He bucked against Jill frantically, attempting to escape from her confining form. Jason struggled to avail though, panting feebly as he weakened, the staircase before him wavering in and out of existence. His eyes drooped, darkness leering onto the scene, as his voice wearily moaned out. "You...stupid...de...mmm... onnnnn..."

"_It will all seem like a dream, when you wake..._" At the top of the staircase was Mabel, eyes wide, a trail of tears leaking down her face, hands over her ears, mouth wide in a silent scream of agony. The staircase disappeared from Jason's mind, leaving the last image in his mind of Mabel falling to her knees, blood leaking from her nose and eyes, howling into the darkness of his own mind, as Jill Rephic laughed in his ears fervorly. Bluish hues danced throughout his head, as Mabel's mind beginning to tear.

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper's eyes fluttered open, heading pounding, as though he hadn't slept in days, thick with pain. He attempted to sit up, but flopped back to the wooden floor below, feeling uncomfortably hot. He gulped, eyes shutting as he willed himself to speak. He opened his eyes once more, head flopping to the side, cheek sticking to the floor. He panted, feeling overheated, as his eyes laid on the unconscious form of his sister laying beside him. Blood flowed heavily from her nose, face unnaturally pale, and he felt a jolt of panic sting him. "M-Mabel!"

His voice was weak with exhaustion, though he summoned the strength to roll onto his stomach, limps flopping to the floor, chin colliding painfully down. His hands clawed at the ground, attempt to find traction, in order to push himself to his hands and knees. The brunet's arms shook, supporting his weight, as the hands finally did find traction, knees sliding across the surface below. He swayed dramatically, crawling to the door. His head smacked into the door and he groaned weakly, attempting to locate help. "Grun...S-Stan..."

The brunet began to smack his head against the door, mind spinning, as he hoped his great-uncle would come investigate what the noise could be. He finally ceased doing so, beginning to grow much too dizzy to continue. He fell to his side, heading smacking with a thud against the unforgiving ground. His eyes welled with tears, panting on his words. "S-Stan..."

The door swung open, the wood smacking into his knee caps. "What the heck are you kids doing up h-?" Stan's voice ceased speaking, as Dipper released a choked cry, grasping his injured knees to his chest, as he began to sob. His great-uncle was instantly on the ground, squatting beside him. He felt hands cradle his head and Stan leaned closer. "Jesus, what are you doing on the ground? Are your legs ok?"

He leaned his cheek onto the elder man's cold hand, bobbing his head up and down. "Ma...Mab...she..."

"Ugh, you feel sorta hot and all sweaty...Kid, you're running a fever!" Stan exclaimed, feeling his forehead.

"Mab...el...bleed...h-help...h-her..." He panted, eyes squeezing shut, as the world sickeningly spun.

"What? Mabel?" He felt Stan shift, placing his head back to the floor, and he his head lolled to the side, observing his great-uncle bowed over his twin. He felt a jolt of confusion, as he realized the blood was missing, her face now red with a fever, just as his was. Stan reached out, pushing aside her hand that was damp with sweat, feeling her forehead. Stan frowned, muttering to himself "Do you two always get sick at the same time...?"

He began tapping her cheeks, attempting to rouse her from her fevered unconsciousness. He paused, tenderly arching her neck to the side, revealing the darkened bruises. "What the hell is _this_?"

Stan's face glanced over his shoulder, eyes wary of the feverish 13-year-old. His hair was damp from what Dipper assumed was a shower, slacks missing their belt, wearing a button-up with the sleeves unrolled, half-way buttoned up. The shadows underneath his eyes, matched Dipper's own, and he wondered if the stress was all from him. Was that why he stared at him like that? "It was you, wasn't it?"

He nodded weakly, feeling shame consume him. When the glint in his great-uncle's eyes changed, he felt even worse. "You...you killed them, didn't you?"

Dipper heard it. He heard the frantic chirping of squirrels only to be cut off, replaced by a never ending giggle. His back arched, eyes wide, beginning to twitch erratically. Stan was looming over him a moment later, the stress more apparent than ever, voice sounding warbled, distorted around the giggles. "Shit, Dipper, are you having a seizure, again?"

A vision came to his mind, causing his head to pulse. He was forgetting something. The woodland creatures were being tacked to the ceiling of the closet, the edges of his vision, multi-colored, as though it were film, damaged by the elements. He was forgetting something. The squirrels scurried away in the attic, but were snatched by hands, and squished painfully. He was forgetting something. They were missing their eyes, being stacked into a pile of twitching animals, fresh blood pooling out from their eyes. He was forgetting something. The rows of bloody eyeballs were lined up across the floor, red soaking into the wooden floor underneath. He was forgetting something. He wasn't supposed to see anything. He was forgetting something. He was supposed to only hear. He was forgetting something. His mind couldn't handle this. He was forgetting something. What was wrong with him? He was forgetting something. His mind couldn't handle it. HE WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING. "Dipper? Kid, you're scaring me! Why are you twitching like that? Is this some seizure?"

Dipper felt the violent trembling take his limps, as he began to seize. He was forgetting something. He thought of when he had fallen down the staircase, frantically attempting to cease his fall, only to be left on the cold floor, alone. He was forgetting something. His only comfort had been the blood pooling underneath his head, letting him know he was alive. He was forgetting something. He needed someone though, someone to save him from himself. He was forgetting something. He needed...forgetting...someone...He needed Jason...Was he Jason? Was he Dipper? Were they together? Were they separate? The lights in their mind went out, Dipper and Jason forgetting that Jill Rephic was inside Mabel Pines.

_Chapter 29 End_

**Sooo, I didn't update before school started and I want to apologize about that. Honestly though, I've beginning to find it difficult writing this story, since I feel as though everyone in this story is out of character and that I intended on making this story go in a different direction. Usually I write the entire outline to my stories, before I begin writing them and about half way through, the chapters began to not follow my outline. I'm attempting to get this story back on track though, so that my final will match up to my original plans. Next chapter, will have Stan searching for Fiddleford and his old friend Claudine. As always, followers, favorites, and reviews are appreciated!  
**


	31. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30_

****Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.** **Warning about slight sexual harassment, after Gideon's phone call (not actually graphic, but unsettling nonetheless).**_**  
**_**

Stan slammed the door of the Stanley Mobile shut, causing the entire frame to shudder. He locked the driver's door, glanced both ways, and he crossed the street. He stepped on the sidewalk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Typically, he would wear his suit jacket out into town, but considering the weather, he found it a rather hot day to wear extra layers. The elder man grumbled to himself about the unbearable Oregon heat. He removed a hand from his pockets, tugging at the collar of tie-less button-up, in an attempt to let heat escape his sweaty neck. No one paid him much mind as he waltzed down the sidewalk, which he was thankful for, because he honestly didn't want any interruptions from his task in mind. As he headed to the Gravity Falls museum, he thought back on the events of the day.

After Dipper had had yet another seizure, he had decided not to call Dick, considering it had only been a 30-second one. He honestly wasn't sure which made him more nervous; the fact that his grand-nephew's seizures were linked to his own anxiety or the notion that Dipper had killed those innocent woodland animals. He couldn't possibly imagine the 13-year-old doing what he done, nor had he ever imagined that he had generalized anxiety disorder. Everything at the moment seemed strange though. Dipper (or Jason?) strangling his own sister. Dipper apparently murdering animals in cold blood. Both of the twins coming down with fevers at the same time (not even his brother and he had ever gotten sick in the same day when they had been together). It was stressing him out, just the fact that his brother's money was dwindling at a rapid speed, Stan's income from the Shack becoming the worst he had ever had.

He glanced in either direction, as he crossed the street to the museum. He was certain that the social worker would notice how low his funds were becoming and would probably take Gideon away if he can't afford foster care for him. He had begun to become attached to the 10-year-old and could actually admit he would be saddened to see him either taken into another family or into the system. This, and not to mention the fact that Gideon obviously wasn't mentally alright (Dick and the psychologist claimed he was, but Stan suspected he hadn't been) were stressing him out.

He blew out a breath, entering the premises, the image of Gideon staring blankly at the television set, as he had told him he would be out for awhile, coming to mind. The unresponsiveness from the child unnerved him, causing the urge to smoke to rise. He was certain though, that the twins would be out for awhile, so he found that he had plenty of time to search for his best friend. The teenage greeter, slouching down in his chair, texting away, didn't speak or glance up as he entered the emptied building. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Just like Corduroy..."

The elder man sped past the exhibits, heading towards an "**EMPLOYEES ONLY**" door, and pushing it open. He reached into his pocket, removing his car keys, before shoving them back in with a frown. Wrong ones. He reached into his other pocket, removing another ring of keys, the key chain of an eyeball hanging from it. He went to the end of the hallway he had entered, turning to the door on his left. He hesitated in front of it, before releasing a quick rap against the door. When no one answered the door, he finally stuck one of the keys into the lock, and opened it. The elder man stepped aside, quietly shutting the door behind him as he glanced around.

It wasn't how he remembered it, all those years ago. The walls were painted a neutral sand tone, tabletops clattered with stacks of paperwork, a tank with various prehistoric fossils displayed in it. A taxidermy squirrel beside the tank, stared greedily at him, causing him to squirm, recalling the bloody animals he that had been discovered in his house. He glanced around for a living being, running his hands through his hair, realizing Fiddleford hadn't come to his old office at the museum after all. He startled, as the door behind him began to open, and he automatically hid behind the door. The wood tapped his chest, barely bouncing away, as a woman entered, dropping her paperwork across the floor. She cursed, bangs falling into her face. She swooped down, beginning to gather her scattered paperwork from the floor, and Stan found it a perfect opportunity to sneak out. He edged out from the door, mindful to keep quiet, not to get caught. Stan nearly made it out, when she turned around to gather paperwork from behind. She froze, staring at him in surprise with brown eyes, her bangs partly covering them. "Ummm, may I help you?"

Time to lie his ass off. "Oh, I'm just from the university and I needed to speak to you."

She plucked up the remaining papers, standing before him. She squinted at him, tilting her head. "Aren't you the one that lives in that tourist attraction in the forest?"

Shit. "Who?"

"Yeah, that fellow named after the tree, um...Palms? No, Pines. That's it. Aren't you Mr. Pines?"

Double shit. "I really don-"

"My daughter's friend works there if I remember correctly. Wendy Corduroy."

Screw it. He released a sigh. "Yeah, she does."

"Hmm. I've heard that you're somewhat dishonest. I can see why those rumors are around, considering you randomly showed up in my office and lie about being from the university." She continued, heading to her desk, dropping it onto another pile.

"Uhhhh, sorry about that...I-I should be going." Stan began to edge into the hallway.

He was halted by her voice though. "Mr. Pines?"

Stan's shoulders slumped, turning back to her. "What?"

"_What_ did you want?" She questioned, hand on her hip, her dark hair now tucked behind her ear.

"Was just...looking for a friend of mine. Used to work here, so I thought he might of been around."

"Mr. Pines, I've worked in this office for eleven years." She stated, matter of factually.

"Yeah, he's been sorta...uh, confused lately though, so I just thought he might of came here by mistake." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"...Is this another one of your dishonest moments?"

"No, really, he's been sorta out of it as of late."

"Oh...does he have Alzheimer's?"

Stan was becoming weary of this conversation. "Uh, something like that. Look, I really need to get going though, Mrs...?"

"DiCicco. Jessica DiCicco."

"Yeah, bye..." He awkwardly trailed off, heading out.

As he left, he head her voice call after him. "I hope you find your friend, Mr. Pines!"

_~!-?-!~_

Stan drove by the boarded up home that Fiddleford and Susan previously owned together, the once bright colors of the house, faded over the years. He stayed in his vehicle, staring forlornly at first house he had stepped foot in, upon arriving at Gravity Falls over 40 years ago. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining his twin in shotgun, complaining at how fast he was driving. He imagined Fiddleford clinging to the door, eyes wide in panic, as he cried Stan's name. He imagined Carla in the backseat, threatening him to slow down. He imagined himself rolling his eyes, slowing down, and grumbling to himself. He opened his eyes, getting out of the car, heading to the white picket fence surrounding the yard. He pushed at the gate and it released a horrendous squeak, that caused him to cringe.

He approached the porch, halting before the door. The paint was peeling from it, the glass missing from the peephole, the handle lopsided. The realization that Fiddleford wasn't here hit him full force, causing him to edge away from the door. Stan wasn't sure how, but he just knew. He tugged at his collar, sweat thickened on his face, stepping back into the car. He turned on the ignition, the cool air of the A/C washing over him. Stan began to feel that his friend had left, thanks to him.

Stan found himself at the dump, wrinkling his nose at the smell surrounding him. Stan went further in, staring at the depleted hut made of trash before him, guilt swelling in his heart. He should of brought his friend in, despite the fact that he couldn't remember anything. He had shied away though, saddened that his friend had lost his mind from the erasures on himself. He should of never let Fiddleford remain in this heap. The elder man lingered by the doorway, not exactly sure of how to open the makeshift door. He pushed at it, causing the entire thing to crash inwards, releasing a noise that echoed throughout the entire dump. He winced, before stepping inside, and observing the inside of the hut.

The lighting of sunset leaked through the cracks, dust floating in the air. A variety of junk, broken, vintage, trash, was scattered throughout the building. Stan was disgusted by the junk piled in the room, the smell of the dump wafting over him. The notion that living here was what his friend has face everyday for over three decades haunted his mind, causing him to feel queasy. He froze, spotting a sleeping racoon underneath a broken table, and scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Damn raccoons..."

He exited, not bothering to replace the door, and hightailed it back to his car. He turned on the engine, simply sitting there, staring at the dump. The sun illuminated the heaps of junk, causing a dramatic view from where he was. Stan thoughts drifted to his grand-nephew, feeling shame that he had ever accused him of murdering a living being. He should of realized the moment the idea popped into his mind, that it was false. Not to mention the confusion Dipper had exhibited about the accusation, before his seizure began. He needed to apologize. Stan sighed, it suddenly occurring that he couldn't think of anywhere else Fiddleford would have gone. He sighed, pulling away from the dump, heading back home.

He never thought about checking the bunker.

_~!-?-!~_

Upon his arrival home, he was surprised to see the twins sitting at the dining room table, eating macaroni and cheese, laughing about a joke Mabel had made to them. Gideon was in the seat next to Dipper, the opposite side of the table, from Mabel. A hesitant, but genuine smile on his lingered on his lips. Stan couldn't help, but smile himself at the sight, glad they were feeling better, and that the Gleeful child could still smile after everything he had encountered. Then his smile dropped, replaced by confusion. "Wait a second-why the heck are you gremlins doing outta bed? You two should be sleeping!"

The three had their attention directed to him, now realizing he had returned. Gideon ducked his head down, avoiding eye contact. Dipper raised an eyebrow at his great-uncle. Mabel grinned, waving her spoon in the air. "Grunkle Stan, we feel allll better!"

"You feel better, my butt! You were running a 100.3 degree temperature last I checked!" He exclaimed, crossing his arms, as he stood in front of the table.

"Obviously not anymore." Dipper replied, taking a spoonful from his bowl.

Stan frowned at him. "What'd you say kid?"

"We're not running fevers anymore, duh."

"What the-? When the heck did you get an attitude?"

"I don't know, maybe when you stopped thinking."

Stan gaped incredulously at him and Mabel covered her mouth, releasing a stream of nervous giggles. Gideon stared wide eyed, pupils skittishly shifting between the male Pines. Then, Stan burst out laughing, ruffling Dipper's hair. Gideon visibly relaxed, the slight smile returning to his lips. "That was a good one kid. Nice to know that you're learning something useful from me."

Mabel giggled harder. "Grunkle Stan, that's Jason!"

He blinked in confusion. "Wait, this isn't Dipper?"

"Mabel, you're confusing him. I am Dipper, but I'm also Jason. I don't really know what happened, but, uh...we're the same person, again?"

"Great and when I finally started to understand this whole thing. So, like what, you act like Dipper, but with more of an attitude?" Stan laughed, Mabel joining in, Gideon releasing a snort of amusement.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha, very funny, you guys."

The laughter eased off. "All joking aside though, I'm glad for you, kid. That was probably really confusing for you-the both of you."

Dipper stared at his bowl, nodding his head. He was forgetting something. "It...it was...sometimes I didn't...d-didn't know who I was..."

The trio stared at the brunet, faces masks of concern at his words. He was forgetting something. "I feel better though...like...less confused about...who I am...I...I'm...I don't need to feel alone anymore. I have you guys."

Mabel reached across the table, taking his free hand. Stan's thick hand rested upon his shoulder. Gideon shifted his seat closer, the wood touching his own chair, offering a hesitant smile. He was forgetting something. Jason and Dipper were one, because he didn't feel alone anymore. There was another reason though. His mind was also together, because...because...he gulped, realizing his mind had gone off track, as though he couldn't concentrate on the matter of the issue. He couldn't remember what the other reason was. The telephone rang and Stan pulled away, grumbling about how it was probably a solicitor. He headed out to the hallway and Mabel's hand pulled away from his own. "I bet you anything it's the guy selling the monkeys, again."

Dipper snorted. "Probably going to end with Grunkle Stan threatening to punch the guy through the phone, again."

"M-Monkey?" Gideon questioned, frowning in confusion.

"Oh, around the beginning of the summer, this guy started calling him like all the time an-" Dipper began, but was interrupted by his great-uncle's voice.

"Gideon," The 10-year-old's attention was directed to the elder man. He stood in the entry way, curling his index finger inwards, to indicate he wanted him to come over to him. His hand held the phone, the cord stretched taunt. "Come here."

The child gulped, finding the emotion rolling off Stan to be overwhelming to his senses. He wasn't sure what, but something was wrong and he was about to receive what he feared to be bad news. He scooted out of his chair, the legs scarpering across the floor, onto wobbly legs. He entered the hallway, not bothering to glance over his shoulder, afraid to see his friend's faces. The phone was handed to him and he stared at it. Stan stared down at him, expression unreadable. "It's Dr. Thompson."

He pressed it to his ear. "H-Hello?"

"Ah, hello, Gideon. How are you tonight?" The doctor's voice intoned.

"Um, f-fine..."

"What are you up to?"

"I-I w-was e-eating d-dinner..."

"Oh, I could actually call back, if I'm interrupting?"

"I-I'm...I'm d-done...W-What i-is i-it?" He asked, feeling anxious over the pleasantries.

"Well...this is a somewhat sensitive matter and I...you may be perhaps a bit scared about the nature of my question."

His heart fluttered, butterflies dancing in his stomach. "W-What i-is i-it?"

"The...trial has reached a certain point where...Gideon, do you know how trials have witnesses come to the stand?"

"Y-Yes, l-like i-in t-the m-movies...t-they g-get a-asked q-questions..."

"Yes, that's right. Now, you don't have to give me a yes or even an answer right away, but the judge has made the request to...since you are one of the main witnesses to what your...father has done...the judge wanted you to come to the trial and answer questions about what he's done. Would like to?"

His ears roared and he stared at Stan, whose face was as blank as his own. Gideon removed the phone from his ear, hanging up without a word. His lips wobbled dramatically, voice coming out quiet. "N-No."

Stan reached out, but Gideon backed away, shaking his head. "N-No...I-I...n-no..."

The freckled child skittered around the elder man, ascending the stairs backwards, hands clinging to the railing. Stan approached the steps, hands cautiously raised, face concerned. "Gideon, we're not gonna make you, but we should talk about this. Come back down."

Gideon continued his ascent, feeling queasy at the idea of being in the same room as his father, in front of the entire town. "I-I...n-no..."

Stan was at the base of the staircase, eyes as pleading as his words. "...kid, please."

Gideon retreated, sprinting to his room, eyes full of tears of horror, nearly tripping up the staircase to the attic. He exploded into the room, slamming the door shut, reaching out to the side dresser, opening his drawer. He grasped onto the copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows", hugging it to his chest, the tears rolling down his cheeks. "M-Mama..."

He stood there, swaying, as he began to feel the emotions of the recent events pour from his heart. His eyes flickering over to the open drawer, spotting the American flag pin his father had given him. Gideon reached out, taking hold of it, staring at the glittering object in the palm of his hand. Suddenly, he couldn't take the feeling of it, tossing it across the room in a fit of anguish. There was a clatter, where the pin rolled into the crack in the floorboards, disappearing from his view. His sobs deepened, as the door opened, Mabel stepping in. Her voice came out perturbed. "Gideon?"

The freckled boy froze, glancing up at her. He realized she was the only one to enter the room and prayed that she wasn-Her eyes. They were a storm, full of darkness. No. He couldn't do this again, no. The words stuck in his mouth, feet glued to the floor boards, as she approached. Mabel's eyes became heavy lidded, staring into his own, tenderly taking the book from his hands. The book was set onto the dresser beside his bed. "You feel sad, don't you?"

He shook his head, backing away. Her hands reached out, to his face, he shied from the them, tripping backwards, onto the bed. No. He felt a sense of deva ju, from when she was on his bed earlier, rubbing his shoulders, uncomfortably. Her lips were close to brushing against the back of his neck, whispering about how pretty he was, how she wanted to...to...own him forever. In the present, her hands were now on either side of his face, body leaning onto his legs. He felt the heat creep up his neck, into his face, unable to breathe. "_You're so cute, when you're sad..._"

His eyes widened, body frozen. Last time, and the first time this had occurred, Stan had interrupted, Mabel returning to her senses immediately. No one was coming this time though. She leaned further in, straddling his legs, lips brushed against his nose. Her eyes glowed a bluish hue, unbeknownst to Gideon, whose own were squeezed shut. Her lips shifted to his cheek, fervently whispering against it. "..._mine..._"

Gideon couldn't breathe. God, he couldn't breathe. She was lying on top of him, feeling a familiar fear rising from deep within. "_No one can come between us this_ _time, Giddy._"

His eyes snapped open, realizing why the situation was familiar to him. It was _her_. He didn't feel uncomfortable because of Mabel, but because of _her_. He would of cried in relief, about Mabel not being the one to cause him discomfort, if it wasn't for the fact that Jill Rephic was using Mabel's body to touch him. Her nose nuzzled his neck, causing him to shiver, tears rolling off his face, into his hairline. "...p-please...d-don't..."

The door began to creak open, the brunette rolling away in a heart beat, onto her feet, as he laid there on the bed, in a daze. Dipper's voice wavered in, peeking his head in. "Gideon?"

"...he doesn't want to talk..." Mabel whispered to her twin.

"Oh...G-Grunkle Stan told me what Dr. Thompson a-asked..." Dipper whispered back. The 10-year-old stared at the ceiling, his stomach pressured enough with horror, that he felt as though he would throw up on himself. He couldn't breathe. Jill was inside Mabel, attempting to take what was her's. Gideon Gleeful was her property and he couldn't deny it. There was no denying it, his body and soul was branded by her. She loved him and would never leave him. He felt a gag building up from within, but was distracted by what occurred next. Mabel released a gasp. Dipper sounded concern. "M-Mabel?"

"...t-that looked like...I thought I saw G-Grandpa Stanley on the window?" She replied, sounding frightened. Gideon's head flopped to the side, the heat reducing in his face, staring at the triangle shaped window. Despite not being able to view what Mabel had seen, he knew she had seen him. Not to the mention, that he felt a dark, animalistic presence in the room. The hairs on his arms were on end, a chill settling upon his body.

The brunet's voice wavered into his ears."I think I...h-heard something...w-what's he doing?"

"I...he...was l-lying on the floor? I don't...I thought I saw something on t-top of him...and...he had a g-gun...it was lying on the floor next to him..." Mabel sounded close to tears.

Gideon wasn't crying any longer, but remained tense. He stiffened further, when something brushed against his foot, his leg jerking away. Dipper's voice was attracted to him, concern in his voice. "G-Gideon? A-Are you ok? Y-You've been sort of quiet..."

"...s-something...t-touched...M-Mabel?" His lifted his neck, staring at the 13-year-old by her twin. Her eyes flashed a bluish hue, finger coming to her lips, hushing him silently. He froze, unable to breathe once more. The situation had happened, he hadn't imagined it, and oh, _he couldn't breathe_. Dipper frowned in distressing, focusing on him, instead of his sister. The lips spread across her face, in a wicked smile, as her hand dropped. He couldn't breathe, lungs encased with fear. His head flopped back down, staring at the ceiling, in a daze. He was trapped, trapped by her ownership, by her secrets, just as Stanley Pines was stuck in another dimension, fighting off the creatures overtaking him.

_Chapter 30 End_

**First off, I barely had time to write this chapter! Between the constant homework shoveled at me and going to work, I hardly have time to do much in my free time. I decided now would be a great time to update though, considering I don't have any impending due dates within the next few days. Honestly though, I want to thank you all for your patience. Notes for this chapter include the following; Jessica DiCicco is meant to be Tambry's mother and the name is used from her actress. The reason Dipper and Mabel were running fevers in the first place, was due to Jill Rephic causing damage on their minds, when she made them forget. She placed a type of block on their minds, so the memory remains there, but they can't reach it. Similar to how Bill Cipher has placed a block on Dipper's mind, against the insanity he has deep within in his mind. This is why he no longer sees the triangles. The other reason Dipper and Jason are together again, because in an effort to protect their mind against Jill, they've joined together. Stan doesn't have this block, but has trained his mind overtime to not always see triangles and other imagery images. Mabel doesn't realize she's hurt animals or Gideon, because Jill forces her mind not to. Those moments between Gideon and Jill won't ever escalate further than they have done so in this chapter, but I wanted to show how dark and possessive she can be. In the next chapter, I will actually go through with the promise that Claudine will make an appearance and will also include a Robbie moment in it. As always, reviews, followers, and favorites are appreciated!  
**


	32. Chapter 31

_Chapter 31_

****Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.****

Stan's palms were rested flat on the kitchen counter, head hung over, eyes wide in fear upon learning what was happening to his brother at the moment. He felt sweat drip from his brow line, feeling as though he was about to completely lose it. He needed composure though, not wanting the teens to observe him breaking down fully. His mind raced though, wondering about how much time Stanley had left, before he...he... "_How_ long ago did you see this, again?"

Mabel bit her bottom lip, staring at the trembling back of her great-uncle. "T-Twenty minutes ago...b-but, um, t-time works differently there, r-remember, Grunkle Stan?"

He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. The thought of a drink came to his mind, the cool alcohol sliding down his throat to calm his nerves. No, he was in control, he did _not_ need a drink. Think. He was supposed to leave in the morning, to meet up with Claudine, but he now thought tonight would be better. The kids though; he had already asked Manly Dan if they can stay at his place, until he returned. He didn't think asking him to do it tonight instead, would be cons-Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He was going to call the Corduroy's right that moment. He raised his head, turning to the twins, a decision in mind. "I'm leaving tonight."

Dipper gulped, hearing the edge in Stan's voice. The situation was worst than ever and his anxiety was beginning to flare. He couldn't tell his great-uncle though, because he had more pressing matters, than Dipper's issues. "A-Are we going over W-Wendy's tonight?"

"Yeah, probably...go to your rooms and finish packing your bags..." He left the room in a rush, shoes tapping briskly across the wooden floorboards. He entered the hallway by the front door, snatching up the phone. He dialed Dan's number, twisting his finger around the chord.

"THIS IS THE CORDUROY'S!" Dan bellowed into the phone, causing Stan to cringe and jerk his phone away from his ear, as his hearing aids rang.

He shook his head, the ringing dying away. "D-Dan, um, it's Stan. Sorry for the late notice, but can the kids actually come over tonight?"

The volume of the voice lowered, confusion creeping into his tone. "Tonight? Not in the morning?"

"Yeah, tonight. My plans changed a bit and I'm leaving in about half an hour." He explained, glancing at his wrist watch.

"Well, that's fine by me. We already have everything ready for them. They're coming over in about half an hour you said?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, see you then."

"Yeah, bye," Stan hung up the phone, heading upstairs to where the boys (hopefully) were now. They were in the midst of packing overnight bags, Dipper's eyebrows furrowed with anxiety, Gideon's face unnaturally blank. The elder man hardly noticed though, concerned about Stanley clouding his mind from their feelings. "You two almost ready?"

"Y-Yeah." Dipper replied, glancing up from the pajamas he was shoving into his backpack.

"I'll be out in the car," Stan told them, nearly sprinting down the staircase, heading to his brother's old room. He opened the door, revealing Mabel to be shoving her stuffed unicorn into her backpack. "Almost ready?"

She gave him a shaky smile. "A-Almost..."

"Ok, I'll be out in the car," He told her, observing her nodding, before sprinting out of the house, with only his wallet and car keys in hand. He knew that he wouldn't sleep at all that night, driving the entire way to see Claudine. He flung open the car door, turning the engine on, drumming his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. After a few minutes of no sign of the children, he honked the horn twice. He nearly did it once more, but they emerged from the Mystery Shack, piling into his vehicle. "You three ready?"

From the rear view mirror, he witnessed the twins glance at one another, then stare at his eyes from the mirror. Mabel bobbed her head up and down. "Yes, Grunkle Stan..."

_~!-?-!~_

When the Stanley Mobile arrived at the Corduroy's, Stan began to ring the doorbell of the cabin several times. The door swung open inwards, revealing Wendy to be there, a moment later. "Oh, hey guys."

Dipper felt hear creep into his face, realizing that was going to sleep in the same house as the teenager he had a crush on. "H-Hi."

"Hi, Wendy." Mabel greeted, waving halfheartedly, smile barely visible on her face. Gideon avoided eye contact, staring down at the doormat with a image of a ax on it. The 16-year-old frowned at the trio, noticing the obvious atmosphere around them, and that Stan wasn't noticing the depression looming about the younger group.

"Ok, I'll be back the day after tomorrow, probably in the morning, so the Shack is going to be close during then." Stan informed the redhead.

"That's like the tenth time this summer, Sta-" Wendy began, but was cut off.

"Yeah, something like that, ok, see you gremlins later." The elder man hurried away, without a backwards glance, and the Stanley Mobile screeched as he bolted down the dirt path.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Wow, he was really in a hurry. What's, uh, going on?"

"Ummm, h-he's going to see a f-friend..." Dipper stammered out, deciding to leave out the finer details of the situation.

"Huh. Old people get like really weird about that sorta stuff. Anyways, dinner is almost ready, so you guys can come on in." Wendy waved them in, stepping aside.

The trio entered the premises, Mabel in the front, observing the building she had never entered before. The beams on the high ceiling caught her eyes, the design visibly attractive to her. The railing to the staircase featuring the carving of black bears across it. The rug around the entrance had a pattern of forest greens and earthy browns. She felt her spirits lift, the change in environment pleasant to her senses. Dipper, in the middle, felt a hand grasp at the back of his shirt, causing him to startle. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gideon's nervous face, peering into his own. He mumbled to his friend in a soothing tone. "They're kind of loud people, but they're ok."

Gideon seemed to perk up slightly, the hand releasing his shirt. "O-Oh..."

"Mabel, hope you don't mind, but you're sleeping in my room." Wendy informed the brunette.

Mabel's eyes sparkled. "Are you kidding me?! We can have a sleepover and watch movies and stay up alllll night!"

Wendy laughed, as they ascended the staircase. "Sure, we can watch that movie about the vampires, again."

"Yayyyy!"

Wendy glanced over at the boys. "Theo and Charlie are sleeping in my Dad's and Kurt's room tonight, so you two will use their room for yourselves."

Dipper nodded, thankful about the arrangement, considering how reserved Gideon could be around strangers. "Thanks."

She opened the first door to the right, waving them in. "This is Theo's and Charlie's room. Make yourselves at home."

Mabel and Wendy headed back downstairs, leaving the boys alone in the room. Dipper glanced around, observing plaid coverings on the left bed, setting his backpack onto it, as he thought about Wendy's button-up. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he imaged the general area and shook those intrusive thoughts from his mind. The freckled boy sat on the dark blue bed, on the right side, dropping his backpack onto the pillow. "I'm guessing this side of the room is Theo's...there's a lot of kid stuff."

Gideon nodded in agreement, though he didn't know anything about the rest of the Corduroy family, as Dipper continued on. "You must be on Charlie's side...woah, he has a lot of books..."

Dipper squatted in front of the book self, removing one, and flipping through it with interest. Gideon gulped, staring at the back of his friend. Tell him, a voice inside his mind cried out. They were alone, so it was the perfect opportunity to do so. Tell him where Jill Rephic was. Tell him Jill Rephic was inside Mabel Pines, right now! His heart thumped painfully, as he opened his mouth. He couldn't speak though. He couldn't tell Dipper what was happening to his sister, knowing the reaction would cause pain. "Wanna go see if dinner is ready yet?"

Chocolate brown eyes stared into his own, Dipper now on his feet. He was losing his chance and couldn't do anything. His forehead dripped with sweat, hands trembling, mouth gaping. "Gideon?"

He wavered finally, mouth snapping shut. His hands clenched and he simply nodded at his friend. He had missed his chance. "Y-Yes..."

As the pair headed on the staircase, into the dining room, Gideon gulped compulsively at the crowded area. He felt trapped, trapped in a room full of strangers, that could have their way with him if they pleased. His palms felt moist, as he observed the humongous bearded man at the head of the table, piling his plate with the pasta he had made for dinner. Mabel was next to Wendy, already munching on bread, as she giggled about what the teen beside her had stated. He jolted, as a hand touching his own. Dipper was beside him, frowning in concern. "Are you ok?"

He gulped, voice coming at hoarse. "...l-lots o-of p-people..."

"They're nice, you don't have to be scared. I'll be sitting next to you."

"O-Ok..."

As the pair settled into the empty seats remaining, across from Mabel and Wendy, Gideon felt himself relax, as he realized their presences weren't threatening to him. Dipper nudged him, handing him the bowl of noodles, and he seized hold. He scooped the food onto his plate, spilling sauce across it, from the other bowl beside him. His stomach growled and stabbed his fork in, twisting the noodles around the utensil. "YOU MUST BE GIDEON!"

He cringed and briefly glancing up at Manly Dan's wide smile. He focused his eyes back down at the plate of pasta laid before him, hands quivering. He nodded shortly, before stuffing a forkful into his mouth. The voice softened a notch, though the 10-year-old remained shaken by the first sentence spoken to him. "I heard you've been living with the Pines."

"Y-Yes...s-sir..." He mumbled.

"HEY!" Gideon froze, dropping his fork onto the pile food he had, wondering what he had done wrong. "Don't start all that 'sir' stuff. And don't call me 'Mr. Corduroy' either. I prefer Manly Dan, because I'M MANLY!"

Mabel giggled, while Dipper's mouth tipped upwards into a smile, at Dan's behavior. Wendy rolled her eyes, while the males of the family continued their meal in silence, though Theo's eye twitched at the sentence. "Ok, Dad, he gets the picture. Stop bugging him now, he probably just wants to eat."

"I am simply asserting myself-"

"-to show how a true Corduroy is supposed to act. Yeah, yeah, we know." Wendy finished off.

Charlie leaned towards Dipper, cupping his hand as he whispered to him. "He says that _allllll_ the time."

"Exactly, Wendy," Dan nodded, shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. "We need to all assert ourselves."

Theo slumped in his seat. "Here we go, again..."

"ASSERTION!" He pounded the table, causing everything on top of it to jangle, food spilling out of a couple pf bowls. Wendy and Kurt held their own in their hands, preventing the spill, as they continued to eat. Theo released a sigh, beginning to refill his bowl, while Charlie attempted to clean up the sauce spread across the table, patting at it with napkins.

Gideon twitched, observing the food splattered across the front of his shirt. He glanced down at it, grasping at the material, to better view the mess. He felt a swell of anger about his royal blue sweater vest becoming a mess, hands now trembling with fury towards the head of the family. He immediately squashed it down, feeling startled at his emotions. He hadn't felt such a feeling since Jill Rephic had control of him. He paled, releasing his shirt, feeling abruptly ill. "Gideon?"

He jolted, glancing up at Mabel, staring curiously at him across the table. "Did you get spaghetti on you?"

Gideon didn't answer, staring intently into her eyes, mind jumbled. Jill or Mabel, Jill or Mabel, Jill or Mabel, Jill or Ma-? A hand waved in front of his face and twitched in response. The hand instantly jerked away and Dipper's voice reached his ears. The members of the table stared at him, eyes full of varying emotions, feeling washing over his senses. He nearly gagged from the force assaulting him and distantly heard Dipper's voice in his ear. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Do you want to go upstairs?"

He hastily nodded, eyes downcast, as he attempted to control his nausea. "Um, M-Manly Dan, c-can we-?"

"Go ahead. If either of you want a shower, it's directly across from the room." Dan answered, munching on his garlic bread.

Dipper grasped his upper arm, Gideon rising with him. He glanced up, making contact with Mabel's eyes. They were storming, beginning to muddle together chocolate and a bluish hue. They appeared displeased, wherever it be by his behavior or by Dipper's, he didn't know, but he didn't have the intention of sticking around to figure out why. He dropped his eyes, letting his friend guide him to the stairs. "You ok?"

Tell him. You two are alone, so tell him. His mind was crying out for relief from the burden of the secret. When his mouth opened though, the words came out wrong to his mind's pleas. "Y-Yeah..."

He barely slept a wink that night, haunted by Jill Rephic's eyes, glowing possessively, the memory of lips brushing against his skin.

_~!-?-!~_

A potato was brushing up against Wendy's ear, as she reached for the squash in front of her, a whisper interrupting her process. "Po-tate-ooooo..."

The redhead laughed, swatting away the vegetable in her ear. "Mabel! What the heck, man?!"

Mabel laughed, heading over to the shopping cart, and replaced it back with the others. Upon waking that morning, the brunette had ate breakfast with the only pair that were awake, Wendy and Theo, before the 16-year-old had asked if Mabel wanted to come to the grocery store. Mabel had beamed, excited about the idea of going to the store, and had agreed. What Wendy hadn't realized, was the fact that the younger would goof around with the food, not that it surprised her. "Potatoes!"

Wendy shook her head, rolling her eyes, before plucking up the squash, and shoving it into a bag. "Come on, Potato Girl, it's time to get the milk."

"Milk!" Mabel cried, running to the rear end of the store.

"Hey, wait up!" Wendy called after her, pushing the cart to where Mabel had headed. She witnessed Mabel throw open the door of the cooler, plucking up a jug in the front. "Woah, woah, hold up. Is that the 1% milk?"

Mabel removed her hand, staring at the label. "Oh, it's 2%..."

"Yeah, we want the milk in the next cooler," Wendy explained, opening the door beside the 2%, removing four jugs of the correct milk. She placed them into cart, eyeing the list, then the nearly full cart. She nodded in satisfaction, crossing off the final item on the shopping list. "I think we're just about done...Let's go head to the registers."

When the pair had finished with paying, they had exited the store, Wendy carrying the jugs of milk, Mabel with the vegetables in her bags. The redhead abruptly froze, mid-step, before facepalming. Mabel nearly dropped the bags she held, upon collusion with her back, and she stumbled back a step, as Wendy groaned. "Ugh!"

"What?"

"I forgot to get the stupid cereal!"

"Oh, I can go get it, if you want me to!"

"No, I'll just do it. Just like wait here, alright? I'll be quick."

"Ok!" As Wendy hurried back inside, plastic bags of milk swinging wildly, Mabel decided to sit down in the shade. The temperature outside was particularly steamy today, the July heat affecting her. She set down her bags, before removing her violet sweater, and tying it around her waist. As she plucked up the bags, she recalled that she had seen a bench, underneath a shady tree on the way here. She glanced around, before spotting it with a grin. She skipped over, freezing in place as she observed who was there. "Robbie!"

The 16-year-old, whose head was laid back against the bench, staring up at the trees above, tilted his head to the side and witnessed the brunette sprinting over to him, bags swinging about. He lifted his head, staring at her in confusion. "Mabel?"

Mabel plopped down beside him, beaming from ear-to-ear. "Hiya! What're you doing out here in the heat?"

"Just thinking...Why are you out here with...are those potatoes?" He questioned, frowning at her.

Mabel removed one from the bag, waving it in his startled face. "Po-tate-ooooo!"

"Uhhhh, what?"

She laughed, shoving it back in. "I was grocery shopping with Wendy!"

He tensed, glancing around for the mentioned redhead. "Wendy's here?"

"She went back in to get some stuff she forgot."

"Oh, uh...that's not...good..."

"Why isn't Tambry with you?"

His heart ached at the lost of happiness. "I don't know...somewhere..."

A frown appeared on her face. "What happened?"

"Nothing, just...nothing...Where's, uh, your brother?"

"Dipper? Back at Wendy's house. We're staying there until Grunkle Stan comes back from...seeing his friend."

Robbie would have caught the hesitation in the sentence, if he wasn't distracted about Dipper staying over at he Corduroy household. Despite the knowledge he had been over Wendy, he felt annoyance swell within about the 13-year-old being that close to her. He wasn't concrete on where the jealously had risen, but was embracing it wholeheartedly, as he shortly asked Mabel further. "Like...in the same room?"

"No, I'm sleeping with Wendy. Dipper and Gideon got to share the same room!"

"Oh..." He replied, feeling foolish about his own emotions. God, he felt immature suddenly, aware that Dipper and Wendy were never going to be romantically together, considering Wendy's behavior around the 13-year-old.

"Did you ever find out where the paper with The Shack's number came from?" Mabel questioned, titling her head, as she switched topics.

"Uh, no," He hadn't thought about that in days, distracting about his parent's marriage falling apart and the lost of his girlfriend. "What about you guys?"

"No..."

"That's weird..."

"...and dangerous..." Mabel continued, staring off into the distance, eyes mysteriously storming.

Robbie stared in surprise at her, finding her eyes to hold a type of darkness...it reminded him of...He frowned, grasping at his sleeves, tugging them further down, feeling subconscious, as though if her eyes shifted to him, they would peer into his soul. Dangerous eyes, hold ideas of demise. He shivered, wondering where such a intrusive thought had come from. "Mabel...?"

She blinked, eyes returning to normal. "Yeah?"

"...are you ok?"

"Uh-huh, why?"

"...you...look sorta like...are you planning on doing something...?" Mabel's eyes seemed to change color for a moment, but he dismissed it as a trick of the light. He was wringing his sleeves, feeling his skin becoming raw underneath. "...Mabel...uh...are you...alright?"

"...Robbie, I have to go. I think Wendy is gonna come back an-"

"My parents are getting a divorce," He blurted out, surprised by the words erupting from his mouth, covering his lips. "Ummm, I mean, ummm..."

Mabel's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "_Oh_, Robbie..."

"Just forget about that...you're right, Wendy might come back soon and I have to do something now and, uh-"

"Are you ok, Robbie?" Her hand resting upon his own.

He gulped thickly, uncomfortable about her concern. "M-Mabel, look, I'm fine an-"

"No...you're sad..." He deflated, feeling caught up his emotions. He wasn't sorrowful, as she believed him to be though. Sorrow wasn't an emotion he had felt in these past few days, no, though he experienced a set of negative emotions pent up within himself. Anger was high in the rearing at the moment, but what escalated further than that was guilt, as he attempted to bury the main emotion aimed towards his parent's divorce. He was...He was..."Robbie?"

Tears rolled down his cheek, though they weren't ones of sorrow or anger, this time. For the first time since he was young, he was crying tears of...He sniffled, releasing a jolt of laughter, before expressing his emotion. "I'm happy."

She stared at him in surprise and Robbie found himself explaining. "I remember when I was nine, my dad looked me in the eye and said 'your mother and I smile and make jokes all the time to ignore the fact that we have to be around dead people and their grieving families'. And, after that, I realized I didn't deserve to be happy, so I just stopped. I stopped being happy and when I tried to be happy again, I couldn't. So, I just stayed...angry and...sad all the time...b-but...my parents...t-they're happy now, about divorcing...they think I'm sad, so they feel worried about me, but I...I can't tell them that I'm happy about it...that they don't have to pretend anymore..."

The brunette processed what had been told to her, before squeezing his hand. "Robbie, you can just tell them. They keep thinking you're sad, so...they're gonna be sad, because they think you are."

"I can't just do that though. They'll think there's something wrong with me if I do that. Most people aren't happy when their parents are splitting up! They were only together because I was born and they'll be upset that they had to suffer for 16 years, just because they thought I wanted them together!" He exclaimed, thrusting his hands into the air.

"...I don't really know if they'll be upset or not, but they want you to be happy...and if you're happy, they'll be happy, because you deserve to be happy, Robbie."

He stared at her, tears thickening, as he heard those words. He deserved to be happy. He deserved happiness. The 16-year-old thought back on his relationship with Wendy, recalling all the wrong he had committed in their relationship. None of those actions caused their breakup though. No, the night she broke up with him, she had told him that, even though she wanted to be around, she couldn't take how dreary he was. He had been insulted at first, but as she further explained, he had nearly cried in front of her. Wendy knew he was never happy, but couldn't fix him herself. She told him that he needed to fix himself, before they could try again. Robbie didn't end up crying in front of her, but he knew she was right. He didn't know how to though, so he wallowed in self pity, until Mabel had helped him. He appreciated it, but his moment of happiness ebbed away quickly, and he knew Tambry wouldn't fix anything. In fact, she further proved he didn't deserve anything, after cheating on him. He had remembered that he didn't deserve happiness. But, now...now...he had been told he deserved happiness. The guilt melted away and he smiled, a crooked one, but he smiled. "T-Thank you..."

Mabel smiled at him, before glancing over her shoulder. She gasped, shoving him off the bench, causing him to fall onto his bottom. "What the hel-?!"

"Wendy's coming!"

Tear and snot were still smeared across his face and he felt his cheeks redden, as he scrambled to stand. "Shit, shit! Uh, I'll see you around, Mabel!"

As Wendy approached, he sprinted away, glancing over his shoulder to witness Mabel wave at him. He nearly tripped over a tree branch and felt laughter bubble up from his chest. He continued his sprint, lips spreading wider across his face. He could smile! He could laugh! He could feel happy! The image of the redhead swam into view, filling his heart with pure happiness. He released an uncharacteristic whoop of excitement at his overflowing heart. He could...he could...he could finally fall in love with Wendy Linda Corduroy.

_~!-?-!~_

In the populous capital of Idaho, near the border of Oregon, was the city of Boise, nestled in the mountains surrounding the area. A maroon 1965 Cadillac DeVille Convertible pulled up the curb of a local park, the door creaking open. An elder man, appearing quite exhausted, dark shadows beneath his eyes, hair sticking out from underneath his fez in strange angles, emerged from the vehicle. He slammed the door, adjusting his fez, tucking in his unruly hair, before heading into the foliage of the park. He went down a cobblestone path, leading further in, the birds chirping into the early morning. He located a bench, overlooking a pond full of ducks wading throughout it, before sitting down onto it. He glanced around, searching for any sign of people. It occurred to the elder man, that he may have to wait a couple of hours, before his friend would make an appearance. "Dammit..."

He startled as a pair of joggers came by, huffing as they sprinted by him. He hadn't any idea how anyone could waken at such an early hour to exercise, finding it difficult to function himself. He rolled his eyes, before observing the trench coat clad figure, with a matching fedora, beyond the pond, briefcase in hand. He gulped, feeling sweat dripping down his skin, though his face appearing blank. Shit. That man could be an undercover officer, a detective, someone from where the VX was taken, or-_shit_. SHIT. THEY WERE HEADING OVER TO HIM NOW. He crossed his legs, remaining calm on the outside, as he screamed in his own head. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one, as the figure halted before him. As the figure sat next to him, setting the briefcase gently onto the ground, he offered the pack to him. "Want a smoke?"

"Si, mi amigo." The feminine voice replied.

He dropped his pact and the lighter onto the bench in surprise, cigarette falling from his lips, as the figure tilted their head, revealing her to be a woman. Her smooth face, contrasted her true age, despite the minimal wrinkles etched around her eyes and mouth. Her chocolate skin glowed, as eyes sparkled in amusement at his shock of her revealing. "S-SHIT!"

"Ha, you appear to be still one for dramatics, Stanford," She plucked up the pack as she switched to English, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, placing it in-between her lips. "Just like when you were in Colombia."

"You think I'm dramatic?! Do you see what you're fucking wearing?!"

"This? It is my disguise." She explained, gesturing to her outfit, as she inhaled the smoke.

"Why are you using that as a disguise?! It makes you look damn suspicious!"

"Calm yourself, you are going to attract attention to us, and we do not want that."

He paled, glancing around for people wandering in the vicinity, anxious about anyone discovering that they were speaking about illegal chemicals being exchanged between one another. Not a soul appeared to be near though, the birds chirping into the silence. "Christ, Claudine, this is serious. People think trench coats are suspicious around here, unless you haven't figured that out during all your visits here!"

"And people in Colombia think it's suspicious when you're running around, rolling barrels with toxic waste signs on them, accompanied by the wife of the boss of a Mafia organization."

He growled at the reminder, feeling defensive. "I didn't even know who you were when I first met you, so just shut up! Where's the stuff I need?!"

"Right here." She replied, with a roll of her eyes, lifting the briefcase and patting it.

"...What?"

"I know it is not much, but this all I could get my hands o-"

"That's all?!"

"Yes, Stan, as I was explaining, before you interrupted."

He balled his hands into fists, hunching his head over. "Shit, shit, shit..."

"Is that still your catchphrase after all these years?"

"Just shut the hell up, Willow!" He exploded, causing her to startle at the volume. "God, just shut up..."

"...If this was any other time, I would beat the shit out of you for saying that me, but I can see you are upset at the moment, so I will let it slide this time...but, Stan, what trouble has your brother gotten himself into? From what I recall you told me, your brother's curiosity for the unusual would cause you two to get into all sorts of unpleasant situations. What has he done now?"

His shoulders sagged, hands unclenching, as he composedly stared up at her. "I got him into this situation and I'm gonna get him out..."

Claudine frowned, narrowing her eyes. "You said the first time around, that your brother was making something, which is why he needed this chemical, though you never told me what...Stanford, what exactly are you planning?"

The elder man extended a hand for the briefcase, though she pulled away from his reach. His eyes hardened as she did this. "...Claudine, give it over."

"Not until you answer my question."

"Give me the damn briefcase."

"Stan, please, your behavior is worrying m-" He snatched it from her clutches, her aged hands frailer than Stan's rough pair, causing her to release a hiss of pain from the chafing friction. "Ay!"

"We're done here," He informed her, standing from the bench, snatching the pack of Pall Mall cigarettes and his lighter from her lap. "Go back home to where _your_ kind belongs."

She glared up at him, fuming about his racist comment. "Bastardo!"

He shoved the pack and lighter into his pocket, beginning to leave. "Adios, Claudine."

The elder woman paused in her fury, gaze softening at his monotone voice, realizing the meaning behind his harsh words were meant to be a warning to keep away for her own sake. She whispered to herself, feeling concern well up inside her heart about her old friend, voice thick with emotion. "...please do not get yourself hurt..."

Claudine was startled as he replied to her words, continuing his leave from the park, briefcase swinging back and forth. "...it's too late."

_Chapter 31 End_

***Translations for Spanish in order of conversation:  
"Yes, my friend."  
"Ow(Ay)!"  
"Bastard!"  
**

**Guess who caught up with their homework? That's right, me! And, it appears I finally went through with my promise of Claudine Willow transpiring in this chapter, though my plans for another appearance from her is unlikely. No notes for this chapter, as I find not much is needed to be explained, though I should mention how it's canon now, that Stan can speak Spanish (Pug Trafficking, haha). As always reviews, favorites, and followers are appreciated!  
**


	33. Chapter 32

_Chapter 32_

****Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.  
****

It was dark. It was dark, a vortex of a star glittered night surrounding her, yet she could visualize all of the scenery beyond. She could visualize every image taking form. Yes, there were no sounds to be heard with those sights, but she heard what was meant to be seen. Images, coming in with waves of reflections, snapshots, and visions. She couldn't understand them. Clear visualizations were beginning to increase in clarity though. So many images. She simply needed to focus in order to decipher them. She watched. She watched and she witnessed the past, the present, and the future.

The child version of Stanley staring from the doorway of the apartment his family occupied, the ant-like figures of his brother and father playing baseball below. The beaten wooden bat released a crack as the ball was hit, flying a few feet away. The pair laughed, his father appearing lighter in personality, than when with him. His face twisted into a scowl, aware that he would never have his father love him the way he loved Stanford. He could never compare to his brother, not even if he became world renowned.

She witnessed the couples danced around the the joint, sweat glistening on their skin, as they spun. Carla McCorkle clapped her hands to the beat, silent laughter coming from her mouth, as she watched Fiddleford trip over Susan's leg. He flushed in embarrassment as his wife attempted to assist him in standing from the floor. Stan slapped his knee, bending over at the waist, laughing at him, as he struggled to stand. Fiddleford, now standing, punched Stan in the arm, face bright with blush. Stan laughed harder, pushing him off, wiping at his tears of laughter. The curator rolled his eyes, before stalking away from the dance floor. Stan headed over to the booth, to his laughing girlfriend, plopping down the seat in front of her. The Pines twin stared at her, taking in her beauty, as she stared him the eye, tilting her head. He removed a pen from his pocket, snatching a napkin from the dispenser at the table, and scribbled on it. He tossed it across the table, Carla plucking it up as she read it, before smiling at him. "_Babe, it's you and me, forever and ever._"

Her youthful face glowed, skin chocolate colored, lips set in a scowl. Stan's hands were placed on either side of his head, face exhibiting his panic, before pointing a toxic waste barrel, liquid hissing and bubbling across the jungle's ground. Claudine rolled her eyes, pointing at the remaining barrels, crossing her arms. He threw his arms out, aimed at the barrel in front of him, screaming. He gasped, the pair glancing over their shoulders, both appearing apprehensive.

Her great-uncle was curled up into a ball, on the metal frame of a bed, dingy mattress sagging beneath him. His hair was slick with sweat, unkempt, beard thickened across his jawline. His orange-jumpsuit was hanging from his thin form, a fist shoved into his mouth, attempting to block the noises emerging from his mouth. The full-moon shone through the bars of the prison window and he squeezed his tear filled eyes shut.

Stan grasped chunks of his hair from his head, squeezing his eyes shut, to remove the triangles that haunted his vision, a left over effect from Bill Cipher inhabiting his body. He suffered alone in the confines of his brother's room, choking on his screams of horror. They squirmed against him, the pointed corners jabbed into him, pains his mind hallucinated. Blood drizzled across his head, warm and thick, red seeping into his vision, despite his eyes being firmly shut. He howled for relief the entire night.

Her great-uncle was fuming at Fiddleford, spit flying from his lips, as he bellowed silently at the curator. The other man held a memory gun aimed at the Pines, appearing distressed, attempting to explain. Fiddleford frowned as he was continued to be yelled out, before punching in the word "**Brother**" into the gun, pointing it at Stan, appearing to show pity. Stan paused for a second, apprehension dancing across his face, before shaking his head, hissing at him, pointing a finger at the weapon. Fiddleford's lips stretched into a smile, waving it around as tears rolled down his face.

Her father, blocky glasses crooked on his face, screamed in the downpour, thunder flashing across the sky. Stan, appearing closer to his current age, was in the teen's face, screaming back, face beet red. Alex's finger jabbed at the man, trembling, face beginning to copy his uncle's color. He abruptly dropped the finger, face twisting into one of agony, bursting into tears.

Gideon Gleeful was lean and gangly, dark shadows surrounding his eyes, hair colored as a wheat field, swept to the side. Freckles spread across his cheeks, bottom lip split open, a gash across his forehead, bleeding steadily. He appeared dazed, leaning against the toilet, on the ground, a shadow looming over his small frame. He squeezed his eyes shut, accepting the pain that would be stricken upon him.

Her brother fell backwards, glimpse of a golden glow being caught, and his back slammed in the first steps of the wooden staircase. His body was flipped over moments later and he had the wind completely knocked out of him as his chest hit the stairs. When he flipped over once more, his leg was caught in the metal railing and he screamed as his leg bone was snapped in half from the force. He reached out instinctively, for the railing to cease his fall, his hand firmly grasping hold. His wrist popped out of place from the rest of body, which continued to move, and when his hand was flung from the railing, it smacked into the wooden step and he cried out from the crack it produced. He missed the final few steps, and fell onto the floor, back first. His head bounced off the title, and stars were in his vision.

She witnessed herself, unlocking the front door of her house, tossing her backpack onto the couch, as she slammed the door behind herself. Her lips moved, cupping her mouth, as she shouted something. She smiled, heading towards the staircase. She froze in front of the staircase, observing the red spread across the floor and her brother lying out in the center of it. She backed away, feeling horrified by the sight, running into the wall behind her. She covered her eyes, sliding down, and drew her knees up to her chest. A wicked smile spread across her face, the blood exciting her within, but it dropped as she thought about her brother being dead. Her emotions and lips alternated back and forth, for hours, until her parents came home to discover Dipper lying there.

Dipper opened his mouth in a ghastly scream, lurching up from his bed, at his doctor. The man was grasped from behind by an orderly, pulled away from harm's way. They began to firmly hold down his limbs. He bucked beneath the weight of them, then bit deeply into one of their arms. The orderly jerked away, gasping, as blood poured down his arm. Dipper had pierced through the skin, taking a chuck from the man, spitting it out onto another orderly. A female orderly ripped his shirt up, revealing his stomach, before stabbing a plunger full of liquid in. Merely seconds later, his bucking reduced, sluggishly flopping, before his struggles died off.

Ariel Pines pointed at the pamphlet she printed out to her husband, as he glanced up from his computer work done at home. She pointed at the image of children, enjoying themselves at a type of summer camp. Alex nodded in approval, unaware of her lies beginning build. There would be no summer camp, for the twins were heading to Gravity Falls to meet Stanford Pines, Alex not one to approve of the man. She had to lie to her dear husband, for Dipper to leave, to enter a new environment to help his unstable mind. She hoped it would work and that Alex would never discover the lies.

Dipper and her stepped off the bus, observing the vast Oregon forest, spread out around them. The bus chugged away and Dipper anxiously whispered something to her. She frowned, before glancing over to the left and seeing the elder man approach them. She grinned, before whispering back, then waving at the man. Dipper grimaced, as they received a better view of him, staring at his eyepatch. The man shook their hands, before pointing at his eyepatch, spookily whispering something. Dipper paled, before Stan laughed, removed the eyepatch, and winked at the startled 12-year-old.

She observed Gideon Gleeful danced upon his stage, in the spotlight, spreading his arms wide, a glint of madness in his eyes. They flashed between a glowing bluish hue, to a dulled hue. His made eye contact with Mabel, eyes pure glowing, and smiled possessively, nobody else seen to his influenced mind. She smiled back, unaware of the control Jill Rephic had over him, as the dream demon thought about how attractive her soul was, exactly how she viewed Stanley's soul.

Her face beamed in excitement, as she sprinted across the carnival grounds, excited about the prospect of viewing a pig. Her eyes greedily observed the pen of filthily animals, eyes swiveling about, before viewing Waddles. She gasped as he squeaked, pointing at him as she exclaimed an unknown phrase. She beamed brighter than before, as the pig squeaked once more. Waddles...where had he gone? Waddles had missing for at least a week, unknown to the entire Pines family, including herself. How could she possibly forget him?

Pacifica entered the Stanley Mobile, after the entire golfing incident that happened that late night, appearing uncomfortable around the Pines and Soos in the passenger seat, the oldest pair singing. She grimaced at the silent, off tune voices, glancing around the filthy vehicle. Mabel chewed on her taco beside her, before offering her own. Pacifica appeared bewildered, as the brunette spoke with her mouth full. She frowned at the blonde, before she hesitantly took the food from Mabel's extended hand. Her lips twitched into a smile, beginning to understand compassion within these people.

Stan turned to reveal Dipper hovering by the doorway, the screen door blurring his features. He began to grin, intending to mock the preteen, but imminently dismissed the idea when he studied him. Despite the blur, he could view the panic laced across his face, his hand clutching the front of his shirt, hunched over in fear. Stan's face morphed into concern, unaware that it was doing so, completely ignoring the potential customers for once, and heading over to the screen door. He pulled it open, removing his fake eyepatch, shoving it in his pocket, to get a better look at his great-nephew. Dipper was pale as a ghost and looked a bit surprised about his presence. He released a sigh and grasped Dipper's thin arm, by his thick hand. Dipper's surprise increased, as Stan pulled him into the Mystery Shack.

Gideon Gleeful and Dipper Pines stared at each other. Dipper stood there, cradling his injured arm, hat missing from his head. Gideon was curled into a ball, knees to chest. His pudgy arms were tucked against his chest, hands curled around each other, as if holding something there protectively. His cheeks had splotches of red, eyes puffy from crying. His eyes. They were a deep, cobalt blue. Weren't they usually a lighter color than that? Tears drizzling down his freckled face. His normally perfect hair was lopsided and had stray pieces sticking out in every which direction.

Dipper blindly grasped the metal chain, dangling from the ceiling, and tugged on it. The closet was enveloped with light, revealing there to be triangles surrounding him. His mouth slowly gaped open and all the blood left his face. The mess bestrewn across the floor, dizzily swam before his face. His eyes shifted to his sister and Gideon. They were triangles. Triangles with familiar colors, distorted into one another, overwhelming his senses. Dipper staggered backwards, into the door, and fell over. He released a violent scream of horror as the triangles began to squirm. They twitched and trembled as if a mass of bees, sluggishly approaching him. Blood, blood splattered across the entire area. Curling into a ball, Dipper clenched fistfuls of his unruly hair, and shook his head. He was producing harsh gasps between each cry.

_-her hands reached out, to his fuzzy face, unable to be identified, he shied from the them. He ended up tripping backwards, onto the bed in his fear. Her hands were now on either side of his face, body leaning onto his legs. His eyes widened, body frozen, blush creeping into his neck. She leaned further in, straddling his legs, lips brushed against his nose. She felt her heart thumping wildly, excitement coursing through her veins. Her lips-_ **STOP. NO NEED TO TO VISUALIZE THAT, MY DEAR.**

Stan was on his hands and knees, the hazmat suit's protective layers bubbling, melting underneath the heat of the drumming portal. He staggered to his feet, knees trembling, a mass of rainbow colors surrounding the portal. He appeared to be alone, opening the machine on his own. His face was confident as he approached the entrance, legs quaking with each step, the pressure increasing. He began to float, feet brushing crossing the floor, before losing balance. He flew head over heels, and heels, and heels, and heels, through the portal. Bill Cipher appeared, as the vision darkened, millions of clocks appearing behind him, silently ticking away. The clocks quaked, before shattering into billions of pieces, Bill retreating into the darkness, leaving her alone.

Mabel woke with a gasp, panting, as she realized what Stanford Pines was planning on doing alone, despite her deal and his promises. She tossed the covers aside, aware she had a limited amount of time, jumping from her bed. The door swung wide open, leaving a sleeping Wendy, as she bolted up the staircase, to her brother and best friend, warning on the tip of her tongue.

_Chapter 33 End_

**Starting off with, I've been wanting to do Mabel's version of the dreams the twins have, ever since Dipper's one, and I thought now would be as good as time as any. The birthday for Gideon will be in the following chapter. Notes for this chapter include: Before "A Tale of Two Stans", I had envisioned Stan(Grunkle Stan) being the favorite child and Stanley(Grunkle Ford) being the one that wasn't as liked, though it turns out it was the opposite of that. Just like Dipper, Stan has suffered aftereffects of a dream demon possessing him, though I always imagined that they had faded over time (though that doesn't mean they ever went away) and that every person has these aftereffects. One example would be Gideon's hair dying and losing the natural coloring it has. The scene with Fiddleford and the memory gun, well, I may go into detail of that in a future. The scene with Alex Pines is the memory Stan has in Chapter 19, where he shouts this at him: "_I hate you! I hate you and I hate my deadbeat father! If it wasn't for you two my mom would be alive and happy! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!_" Alex hasn't a clue, that his wife has lied to him about the summer camp. Ariel knew he wouldn't approve of the idea, considering he isn't that fond of Stan. As always, I appreciate favorites, followers, and reviews!  
**


	34. Chapter 33

_Chapter 33_

****Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Warnings are blood towards the end of this chapter.  
****

Stan placed the briefcase onto the desk, eyes weary from lack of sleep, having been awake for nearly 48 hours. Back when he was younger, he had constantly pulled all-nighters, being able to stay up four days in row, to simply operate the portal (not to mention the nightmares and the triangles that tortured his mind for a period of time). Now though, his elderly body could barely handle the constant lack of sleep. He needed to stay up though, for Stanley. He wouldn't forgive himself, if he completely lost his twin. His voice came out hoarse, thick with emotion, as he whispered to himself. "I'm gonna get you back, no matter what the cost is."

He sagged against the swivel chair, eyeing a locker laid up against the left side of the wall. His joints creaked, as he stood, opening the locker to reveal a pair of hazmat suits hooked up. He leaned the side of his head against the cool metal of the door, remembering that his brother had been in the last individual to wear one. The glint of his father's shotgun behind the hanging suit caught his attention, causing his face to harden. Stan vowed to only use it only in dire circumstances. He reached out, pulling the suit from the hook, hugging it to himself, eyes squeezed shut. He could smell the scent of his brother, the faded pages of books and coffee beans, coming to mind. "Stanley..."

The elder man opened his eyes, snatching the shotgun from the locker, setting the weapon onto his desk. He removed his fez, tossing it inside the locker. He sat back down on the swivel chair, laying the suit out across the desk. He untied his laces, removing his shoes, dropping them to the floor. He stood, stepping into the suit, zipping up the hood. The elder man pulled on the pair of rubber gloves, hearing the snap after he released them. He began to open the briefcase, fumbling with the latches, before it popped open. There were two rows of vials, barely four inches tall, by two inches thick, glowing with the amber chemicals dancing inside. A strip of velcro was placed across each, keeping them in place, and he removed the first one. He lifted the vial up to his mask, his gloved hand feeling the heat rolling off it. He opened the door, leading to the dully humming portal, power already significantly reduced. He headed over to the operation tanks, unscrewing the lid. There was a gurgling noise rising from inside, heat causing his mask, and even his glasses to fog up. He opened the lid to the vial, hands steady, before dumping it in. He replaced the lid immediately, scrambling away, as the heat intensified.

Stan headed back into the other room, hearing the portal humming louder, and he began to feel confident that these vials would be enough to save his brother. He shut the door and was startled as the sound of feet was heard pounding down the staircase behind him. The elder man whipped around immediately, revealing Dipper, Mabel, and Gideon sprinting into the basement. He felt furious about the stupidity of how they had waltzed straight in, without thinking about what could possibly be occurring. The thermometer on the wall above the the control panel, revealing it to be 100 degrees Fahrenheit, even though it wasn't same room as the portal! "What in the hell are you three doing in here?!"

Mabel was the first to reply, voice harshly lashing back at the elder Pines. "You're opening the portal without us!"

"Probably because it's dangerous! Get out of here, _now_!"

"No! You promised th-"

"I didn't promise nothing! I'm not letting any of you get hurt when I open this, so go!" He bellowed, pointing at the door behind him. Dipper tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, already drenched in sweat, observing his relatives fighting. He felt anxiousness boiling in his stomach (or was it the heat?) at the sight of his great-uncle in a hazmat suit, planning on risking his life alone, to save his twin. Stan was bent over, screaming into Mabel's voice, and she had tears of anger welling in her couldn't stand the sight he beheld or the noises he heard, breathing slowly to steel his nerves. "How did you three even know I was doing it already?! You're supposed to be sleeping at the Corduroy's!"

"BECAUSE I SAW IT AND DIPPER HEARD THE PORTAL WHEN WE WERE SLEEPING!" She exclaimed, tears rolling down here cheeks. "AND I MADE A DEAL WITH BILL TO GET GRANDPA STANLEY OUT!"

Through the mask, Dipper witnessed the surprise that appeared on his face, before his anger reappeared. "THAT'S THE DEAL YOU MADE?! WHAT IF YOU COULDN'T DO IT, HUH? WHAT WOULD YOU DO THEN?! HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID?!"

"I'M NOT STUPID; YOU'RE STUPID!"

Dipper glanced to his left, suddenly realizing that his friend might not be reacting positively to the entire situation. He observed Gideon's distant eyes, hands covering his ears, mouth contorted in a twist. He reached out, tapping a finger on his shoulder, but received no response. Extended yelling seemed to be a trigger for his friend, he's noticed over time, and feared what memory he was stuck in. "DON'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY! I'LL WHOOP YOUR BEHIND INTO NEXT WEEK IF YOU DON'T SHUT IT!"

"I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing at him, unknowingly repeating the physical actions her own father did, when he lived at the Shack himself.

Dipper's anxiety melted away, replaced with anger, as he couldn't take what they were doing to Gideon anymore and finally went over the edge, stepping in-between the pair of Pines. "Stop it you guys! We shouldn't be fighting like this, especially when Gideon is like_ this_!"

They ceased their argument at the mention of the 10-year-old and guilty studied the unresponsive behavior he presented. Stan went to rub at his forehead, but his hand ran into his mask, causing it to drop away. He cursed his own behavior, realizing how immature he had been with his grand-niece during their argument. He approached him, beginning to unzip his mask, revealing his face to the heated atmosphere, kneeling down before the freckled boy. He reached out, though his hand hovered above Gideon's shoulder, unsure on wherever he should touch him or not. "Kid? Hey, it's alright, you're safe..."

As Stan's palm tenderly rested upon Gideon's shoulder, Mabel slunk into the background, eyes glowing a bluish hue, as she approached the vials. The elder Pines was receiving no response from the freckled boy in the meantime, which was beginning to highly concern. His hand rubbed the shoulder, hoping to convey the comfort he was attempting to give. "Gideon? Come on, kid, you're kinda freaking me out here now."

Gideon's eyes sluggishly shifted, staring intently at the closed door, leading to where the portal was. His eyes seemed focused now, though his voice remained distant. "I-It...I-It's h-hot..."

"Yeah, I know. It's part of the reason why I'm wearing this suit. It has this thing inside that cools you down...you ok?"

The freckled boy nodded, hair slick with sweat, falling out of place, due to his hairspray melting in the heat. "J-Just t-thinking...a-about m-my D-Daddy...a-and..."

"Hey, he isn't here. Didn't mean to scare you with all the yelling...whoa there!" Stan grasped the 10-year-old's shoulders, as he swayed, panting from the intensity of the heat. Dipper's eyebrows furrowed together in concern, panic flaring, as he approached the pair. "Ok, that's it; you three are leaving right now. I can't have you kids passing out on me when I'm doing this."

Mabel stared intently at the briefcase, as she greedily eyed the vials. She blinked, returned to her senses, unaware how close she had edged to the chemicals, as she tuned in to the words being spoken by her great-uncle. She twirled around to Stan, hair fiercely flying behind her in her apparent fury. "NO! We have to be here when he comes back! It's part of my deal, Grunkle Stan!"

Stan squeezed his eyes shut at the words, before his shoulders deflated. "...ok, ok, you three can stay..._but_, you gotta do everything I tell you to do. And, the same goes to the both of you."

Dipper stared at Stan in surprise, not expecting the elder man to agree to let them stay. Mabel bobbed her head up and down, face appearing solemn, causing the brunet to be reminded of the coldness she had inside herself. He gulped, glancing away, and nodded as well. Gideon released a moan of agreement, eyes squeezed shut, leaning against Stan. "Ok, first off, I don't want any of you getting heat stroke, so take off your tops."

Mabel frowned. "Um, Grunkle St-"

"Just take off your sweater, not your shirt," Stan told her, realizing his choice of words to be inappropriate in her case. He glanced down at the freckled boy he held steady, unsure on how to approach this subject. "Uh, Gideon, I'm not doing anything really weird, but I'm gonna help you take your sweatervest off, ok?"

Gideon blinked up at him, nodding in a daze. "O-Ok..."

Stan cautiously grasped one of the 10-year-old's arms, lifting it above his head. When he didn't receive a negative reaction, he began to remove the royal blue sweatervest from his form, lifting the other limp arm to fully take it off. "You, uh, need help unbuttoning your shirt?"

Gideon tensed, shaking his head frantically. "N-No...w-want i-it t-to s-stay!"

"Woah, woah, it's ok! I ain't gonna make you, but I just don't want you to overheat. You should least roll up your sleeves though, so-"

Gideon jerked away from his, eyes wide, sweating in rivets by this point. "N-NO!"

Dipper held his forest green t-shirt and dark vest in his arms, observing the scene, gulping. Mabel was beside him in a lavender tank top, shooting star sweater folded up in her hands. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to the scene, staring at the portal, through the window. He decided to intervene, in order to save Gideon the embarrassment of attempting to explain himself. "G-Grunkle Stan?"

Stan glanced up from the trembling child, frowning at him. "What?"

"He, um...d-doesn't want you to s-see..."

"See what?"

Dipper licked his lips, moisture collected around them. "His, uh...s-scars..."

Stan blinked in confusion. "Scars?"

"Um, _s-she_ healed his scars and w-when the contract was broke...t-they came back from, uh...f-from before..." Dipper trailed off, feeling as though he wasn't explaining well.

Stan's mouth set into a firm line, knowing exactly where the scars were from, aware that his actions seemed heartless now. "Oh. Uh, ok, you don't have to take it off, kid."

The freckled boy visibly relaxed, tugging at the collar of his button-up, as he nodded. His eyes shined guilty up at the elder man, causing Stan to feel worse about his actions. "S-Sorry..."

"No, that one was my fault..." Stan replied, releasing a sigh. He guided Gideon to the swivel chair, so he wouldn't collapse, setting him down into it, before beginning to zip up his hood. "Ok, before I open the portal, I'm gonna set down some ground rules. Number one: stay in this room _at all times_! Don't go into the room with the portal, you three understand me?"

The trio bobbed their heads in unison. "Good. Number two, if something goes wrong, and I mean like the portal bursting into flames, because it's old and she might do that, no matter what, you three need to shut this down. You just have to twist those three keys at the same time, to unlock the shutdown button, other there. Then, one of you needs to press that button above the keys."

They all stared at where he pointed, to the wall to their left. A glowing red button, roughly the size of their hands, with the words "**SHUT DOWN**" in bold letters was above, glinted suggestively with the power it held. Below the button, was three slots, with a cautioned black and yellow striped pattern surrounding them. Golden keys were inside the slots, waiting for a simple twist to unlock the button. Mabel raised her hand. "Yeah?"

"Why is the portal super hot? You didn't say it was when you told us about what happened before?"

"Like I said; she's old. I tried the best with what I had, but the machine overheating and...well, uh, crashing can happen. What I'm trying to say is, I can probably only have her opened only one more time."

The twins paled at the words, glancing at one another, realizing they only had one shot at saving their grandfather. Without speaking, they agreed that they couldn't screw up this rescue, or they would never see Stanley Pines alive in this dimension. "And, number three, if...when I come back with your grandfather, and I'm...If I'm injured, call Dr. Thompson and tell him that I need help. Ok?"

Dipper couldn't breath for a moment, aware that Stan could be heavily injured by whatever was attacking Stanley. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, choking on the words he wanted to convey. Mabel appeared unnaturally pale, lightheaded about the notion of Stan being attacked and the blood that could spill from his bod. Her lips twitched upwards, heart thumping with excitement. Her smile dropped, disappointed that she had to wrestle with these feelings, as she did when Dipper had fallen down the staircase. Gideon couldn't properly focuses on his surroundings of the words spoken to him, the heat distracting him from the Pines. He vaguely understood the words, aware that they were attempting to save Stanley and that it was dangerous, but didn't quite understand beyond that. "Ok, well, uh, now I'm going to take these little bottles of, uh, 'fuel' and put them into the machine. I need one of you three to pull that lever, right there, to open the portal, when I give the ok."

The younger Pines nodded in unison, as he headed over to the locker, plucking up the other suit. He hooked the loop on the neck to his own suit, tying the arms and legs of it, around his body. Stan then approached the briefcase unstrapping the vials, and picking them all up, as he headed over to the door leading to the portal's room. His twisted the handle of the door, letting it swing open inwards, before pausing in the doorway. The heat swirled heavily into his body, causing him to flinch that the heat that momentarily penetrated his suit, before the cooling system inside began to function properly. He turned his head to the younger trio, face stern through the hood. "Remember, stay in _here_."

Without further words, the elder man stepped in, the door swinging shut behind him. He approached the operation tanks, unscrewing the lid, dumping in the contents of one vial. He cringed, as the bubbling increased, heat causing him to scrunch up his face. He open the other vials, pouring in several at a time, stepping back, as the VX popped like cooking oil, liquid jumping up at him. He cursed, grasping his gloved hand, as he felt pain from the popping chemicals. He replaced the lid, hand twitching from the pain it was enduring. The portal released a painful clatter, the humming increasing in sound. He glanced through the window, revealing the trio covering their ears, faces twisted in pain. He lifted his hand, thumb pointing to the air. Mabel's hand shot out, pulling the lever down, causing the portal to begin to open. There was a beeping barely heard over the hum over of the portal and his eyes widened. "TIME ANOMALY OCCURRING."

Gravity was lost, as the contents and individuals of both rooms began to float upwards. Gideon clenched onto the seat of the swivel chair, ramrod straight, eyes wide in fear as he began to float. Mabel clung to the lever, hair floating around her face, appearing frantic at the lost of gravity. Dipper's hat floating from his hand, birthmark revealing itself to the world, as he floated without any support to cling to, face stricken by the fact he had nothing to hold onto. Stan grasped onto a cord connected to the portal, beginning to float, upside down as he stared at the machine. The humming entered a ear splitting state, causing him to cringe, as his hearing aids rang out. The portal's hue began to mix, a rainbow of colors swirling around the opening. He was remind of what occurred 37 years ago, when the machine was last opened. He breathed deeply, as the gravity returned, plunging him back down. As his body made contact with the ground, he groaned, pushing himself up to his hands and knees. Stan glanced over to the window, observing Mabel assisting Dipper in standing, as he rubbed his tender head, hat missing from his unruly hair. Gideon was continuing to tightly cling to the swivel chair, eyes staring at the portal. "Next time..."

Stan wiped his brow, heat penetrating through the material, the hazmat suit's protective layers bubbling, melting underneath the heat of the drumming portal. He staggered to his feet, knees trembling, as he readied himself from the next time anomaly to occur. His face began confident as he approached the entrance, legs quaking with each step, the pressure increasing, the portal's power overwhelming him. The voice the electronic voice shrilly cried out once more, beeping louder than before, as gravity was lost, again. He began to float, feet brushing crossing the floor, before losing balance. He flew head over heels, and heels, and heels, and heels, through the portal. He gasped, as he squeezed his eyes shut against the intensity of the light. The heat burned his skin momentarily, before icy coldness overwhelmed his senses, a puff of warm air from his mouth, clouded his glasses and mask. Stan couldn't open his eyes, afraid of what he would see, before he would land where he needed to. If his eyes had been opened, he would of been able to prepare himself for the landing, but they weren't, so he crashed full force into the ground, on the other side of the portal. "S-Shit..."

He blinked, the fog of his glasses and hood beginning to evaporate, revealing a the rainbow hued portal glowing above him. He shoot up, afraid that the portal has spit him back out, until the conman realized the basement had lost saturation. He glanced over to the window, the trio missing, and he sighed in relief, as he was able to confirm he had made it. He unzipped his hood, adjusting his glasses, before standing. He approached the door, swinging it open, glancing to his right, and flinched. The ghostly outline Dipper, Mabel, and Gideon were there, staring in shock through the window. He reached out, his hand going though Dipper, causing him to stumble forward. "What the hell...?"

The brunet cringed, glancing around, and Stan realized that Dipper perhaps distantly heard him, though probably could decipher the words. He turned to his sister, voice sounding warped to Stan's ears. "I tHoUgHt I hEaRd HiM, mAbEl..."

He shook his head, stepping away, blocking out the disturbing tone his great-nephew's voice had been warped into. The ghostly appearance of the trio disappeared from his view, and he back away to the staircase. There was a cry of pain echoed out from upstairs and his eyes widened when he realized that he recognized the voice. "STANLEY!"

Stan bolted up the staircase, swinging open the vending machine, heading into the hallway leading to the lived-in portion of the Shack. He paused in the living room, glancing around for the source of the screams. He observed the never ending forest spanned outside the window, feeling unease about the prospect that the creatures that were attacked his twin, inhabited the forest. He heard the sound of his father's shotgun going off from up the staircase and he sprinted up them, nearly tripping several times. The echoing growls of whatever was attacking Stanley approached his ears, causing his hearing aids to screech. He entered the first landing of the attic, realizing the door of Dipper's and Mabel's room had been demolished, whatever that had wanted in, succeeding. Another gunshot went off, as he entered, narrowly missing his face. Stan observed the face behind the overturned table and releasing a shaky laugh, lips trembling as he realized who it was. "W-Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

_~!20-8-9-19/19-20-15-18-25/9-19/1-12-13-15-19-20/4-15-14-5!~_

"I thought I heard him, Mabel..." Dipper whispered to her, glancing over his shoulder for the voice of his great-uncle.

"Grandpa Stanley?" She questioned with a frown.

"No, Grunkle Stan...d-do you think that means he made it...?"

"Y-Yes...I-I...c-can f-feel h-his...h-hope..." Gideon panted out, leaning his head back on the swivel chair, eyes squeezed shut as though he was pained.

Dipper frowned at the behavior. "Are you ok, Gideon?"

"U-Uh-huh..."

Mabel leaned over his seat, hand brushing away the sweat from his forehead. He cringed at the touch, twisting his body from her touch. She frowned at his action, though didn't comment on it. She fanned at his face, in an attempt to cool down the overheated boy, realizing that he was suffocating in the heat they were enduring. Her throat was pained from how dry it was, sweat in places she hadn't felt before. She glanced over at the thermometer on the wall, revealing it to be around 121 degrees Fahrenheit now. "It got hotter..."

The portal released a grinding noise, causing all three to clap hands over their ears. The machine's light flattered for a moment, before resuming the intensity it had preserved before. Their hands dropped as the noise ceased, the humming returning. Mabel opened her mouth, about to comment, but the portal abruptly burst into flames. The trio stared in horror as the hole was surrounded by a rainbow hued set of flames, the entire basement rumbling. The voice shrilly cried about another time anomaly occurring and they began to float from the floor, caught by surprise. Dipper stared at the portal, remembering his great-uncle's second rule, pained by the decision they had to make. As much as he wanted to save them, if it risked the portal exploding, they would have to close it with them still in there. "Mabel, we have to shut it down!"

"No!" She cried out, hair whipping around as she shook her head.

"He told us though!"

"Just a little bit longer! Please, we have to get them out!" Her eyes were filled with tears, the liquid floating into the air, as she stared at the multi-colored flames and listened to the roaring reached her ears. "We can't trap them, they'll die, Dipper!"

The operation tank released an echoing gurgle, then exploded. Everything shuddered, flames roaring inside, derby flying across the portal's room, metal shattering the window separating the trio from room. Mabel was assaulted by a chuck of metal, causing her to crash into the wall of a humming machine behind her. Other pieces of metal narrowly missed Gideon and Dipper, as they screamed out to the brunette. Gravity returned and she lied unconscious across the floor, spread-eagle, blood oozing out from an unseen wound she had endured. Gideon plunged face first into the control panel below them, crying out from the impact. Dipper's hands splayed out, protecting his face from impact, though his arms buckled underneath him, a pain erupting in his chest. He lifted his head, glancing around at his unconsciousness twin and friend, realizing he was alone. He stared up in horror at the portal, the flames brighter than before, realizing he only had a matter of time, before the portal released a larger explosion than the last one endured. He glanced down at the button, releasing that it had been activated. He glanced down at the keys, a piece of metal lying across two of the now twisted keys. He lifted the remainder of his body, revealing the pain he felt in his chest to be a key he had caused to twist. "I-I can't!"

He stared at the hole inside the flaming inferno, desperately hoping for his grandfather and grand-uncle to appear right now, so that destiny would chose for him to to press the button or not. Tears leaked from his eyes, aware after seconds had passed, that he needed to make the decision at that moment, or the portal could possibly destroy the entirety of Gravity Falls from the explosion it could produce. His anxiety thrummed through his veins, begin to hyperventilate, attempting to decided his actions. He choked on his breath, chest heaving, as he reached forward to press the button. His eyes absorbed the rainbow flames, before shutting them tightly, hand resting upon the button. He pressed it. "...I-I'm s-sorry..."

There was an screeching, as the swirling reducing, though the flames continued to roar. He screamed as the machine did, knowing he had doomed his probably already dead relatives. He pounded his fists onto the control panel, feeling anger consume, the darker side of himself emerging. He stumbled back though, when two figures were catapulted through the portal, onto the strewn metal of the room. The flames went out as though someone had flipped a switch, before it released a creak and completely fell apart. The remainder of the portal collapsed onto the pair and Dipper thrust open the broken door leading into the portal's room.

He paused before hill of metal and wires sparking before him, unable to decipher where his great-uncle could be. He released a series of gasps, falling to his knees, tugging at his hair, eyes swiveling around, searching for a body. His breathing completely ceased, observing the arm of the hazmat suit sticking out from the pile, blood oozing out from around the area. He fell back onto his bottom, staring at the arm lying out across the rumble. Dipper curled his arms around his legs, beginning to rock back and forth. His anxiety had seemingly vanished, leaving behind a blank state of his emotions. He was dead. He killed Stan. He shut down the portal, as he was heading through it, and killed him. HE WAS DEAD. ! The hand twitched and his eyes widened at the sight. The hand pushed at the metal on top of it, causing it to shift, and fall from the hill, sliding down to the ground. The top half of the body was revealed and he released a groan. Dipper's emotions returned and he sprinted up the hill, beginning to crawl. "GRUNKLE STAN, GRUNKLE STAN, GRUNKLE STAN!"

The brunet collapsed onto the upper half of his body, causing the older Pines to groan in pain from the weight. Dipper clung to the neck of the suit, gasping out his name repeatedly, tears dripping onto his mask. "Oh my god, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan!"

As Dipper continued to sob into the chest of the older man, another figure further down in the heap, pushed off part of a beam that had been used to hold up the portal. He gingerly sat up, cringing as his stomach tensed, though he ignored the pain. He shook his head to clear it, before observing the others, and unzipping his mask. Stan's face was revealed, scowling, glasses cracked and askew upon his face. "He's injured, Dipper! Get off him!"

Dipper ceased his cries and slowly lifted his head, staring in confusion at Stan, suddenly realizing the individual he was laid upon, was not his great-uncle. He glanced back down at the figure he had been sobbing on, before reaching out to unzip his hood for him. A younger face of Stan stared up at him, eyes squeezed shut in what appeared to be agony, one of the lenses of his glasses missing. He realized it was his grandfather. Dipper lifted himself off of his body, mind numb for the entire situation that was presenting itself to him. "T-Thank you for r-removing yourself..."

"Did you get hurt anywhere else, Sixer? How's your shoulder doing?" Stan called upwards to his twin. Stanley groaned aloud, pushing himself up with his uninjured side. He panted, unzipping the front of his suit, blood spilling out across the heap of sparking wires surrounding him, choking on a gasp. His head flopped back down, trembling from the claw marks across his shoulder. "Sixer? Lee?"

"I-I n-need..." He began, trembling from the shock his body was entering. "D-Damn i-it...S-Stanford...I-I think I'm going into s-shock..."

Stan's eyes widened and he attempted to lift himself further up, but froze, as he felt a deep shift in his stomach, leaving him unable to breath. He immediately laid himself back down, observing the injury around his stomach. He gulped, staring down at the beam piercing into his skin, the other end underneath him, out of view. He stared at his grand-nephew, the 13-year-old appearing distressed and confused, as he stared at his gasping grandfather. "D-Dipper, where's your sister? Or Gideon?"

Dipper's attention was shifted over to Stan and the elder man prayed that Dipper didn't notice the portion of beam protruding from his stomach, though he quickly realized the angle he was laid at hid the metal. Stan remained tensed, as he he witnessed the brunet bit his lips, glancing over at the other room, tears pooling once more in his eyes. "T-They got hit..."

"Hit? Shoot...are they ok?"

"I...d-don't know..." Dipper trailed off, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"H-hey, don't do that...are you hurt?" He questioned, scanning his body for injuries. His grand-nephew shook his head, lip quivering, as he fought against his sobs. Stan knew that informing Dipper that he was injured, would set off a possible panic attack and oped against the option. He noticed his brother's entire body shook, aware he needed help for him immediately, and possibly himself. He didn't want to resort to calling Dick, considering the fact he didn't want to involve the younger doctor with this fiasco, but knew that he had to resort to that now. "Ok, kid, I need you to do something for me, cause, uh, my legs are sorta stuck underneath this metal here and I can't move it. Can you stay calm enough to do it?"

Dipper wiped at his tears, sniffling, taking as deep breath. "Y-Yeah..."

"Ok, first of all, check on Mabel and Gideon? Just make sure they're, uh...you know, alive, ok? Can you do that?"

His lip wobbled dangerously, before it ceased movement. "Y-Yeah."

"And then, I need you to call Dr. Thompson and tell him we had an accident. If he says he's going to bring someone to help him, tell him I said no, ok? We can't let people see the remains of the portal, that would be too hard to explain. Are you able to to that?"

The brunet bobbed his head up and down, staring in concern at his grandfather. "Is G-Grandpa Stanley going to b-be ok?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. Just need Dr. Thompson to fix him up, and he'll be ok. Now, go check on them."

"O-Ok," He replied, crawling down from the pile and sprinting into the control room. Stan released a sigh, that caught on the end, causing him to release a series of rattling coughs. He lifted his head, observing the entryway of the room, as Dipper re-entered, calling out to him. "I-I think they're ok! I'm gonna go get Dr. Thompson now!"

Stan lifted a trembling hand, producing a thumb up in reply, as his grand-nephew scampered off, heading up the staircase to the gift shop. He dropped the thumb, stomach muscles twitching from the pain. "F-Fuck...Ugh, Lee, how you doing?"

"...I-I can't feel i-it anymore..."

"Shit, uh, don't worry, my nephew is getting a friend of mine that's a doctor." He replied, twisting his head to view his twin, clinging onto his bleeding shoulder, blood steadily dripping from his injury.

"O-Ok...uh, S-Stanford...?"

"Yeah?"

"H-How s-serious is your injury?"

"Injury? I ain't hurt, _they_, uh never hit me, remember? I just haven't moved, because my legs are trapped unde-"

"Y-Yes, that's what y-you told Dipper..._but_, h-how serious i-is the injury you received when the p-portal collapsed?"

"Like I said, I ain't hur-"

"_S-Stanford._"

Stan squeezed his eyes shut, releasing a cough, blood dripping from his mouth and down his chin. "...even after all these years, you still know me..."

"W-What?"

"Uh, I said that...my injury isn't that bad, ok? Don't worry about it, Lee."

"Mhmm..."

The elder man frowned at the moan his brother released. "Sixer? You doing alright?"

"Y-Yes...keep t-talking..."

"Uh, ok. Uhhhh...your son hates me...?"

Stanley groaned. "W-Why in the w-world would you start w-with that?"

"Sorry, sorry. Just, uh, can't really think of anything off the top of my hea-Ugh!" He choked off on his words, as his stomach muscles spasmed once more and he panted through, until the spasms ceased.

"S-Stanford?"

"Ah...I...I-I'm fine...just...some...s-spasms...s-shit...I'm fine."

"Stanford..."

"Really, I'm fi-"

"I-It's cold..."

"Shit, Stanley...just hold on, ok?"

"Mhmm-hmm..."

"Stanley?" Stan didn't receive a reply though, causing him to begin to panic. "Stanley?! Lee?! Shit, Stanley, answer me!"

"Stanley?" The voice echoed into the room, casing him to flinch in surprise, his stomach paining him as he tensed. He lifted his head to catch a view of Dick Thompson, crawling up the mound of metal, panting from his journey, nearly tripping several times. He frowned at him, as Dick observed his face and the hazmat suit he wore. "What in the hell is going on here?!"

"I'll explain everything later, but you need to he-"

"Oh, shit, Stan, are you coughing up blood?" Dick questioned, noticing the blood dripping from his mouth.

"Yeah, but my broth-"

Dick reached out, moving the metal chuck plastered across his lower half in an effort to assist him, causing it to scrap across the beam protruding from his stomach, a screeching heard from the metals touching one another. His body attempted to curl inwards, choking violently at the action the doctor had committed. Bright lights, bright as the portal had been, danced before his eyes, a fierce ringing in his ears. As the lights and noise cleared, his entire body began to spasm. "S-STOP!"

The movement immediately ceased, metal now heavily pressed into the beam, causing the the top half to submerge into his flesh. He felt coldness engulf him, as he began to cough up a mouthful of blood. The thick liquid slid on his neck, oozing into his clothes underneath the suit, his flesh sticky with red. Stan distantly heard the doctor calling out to him, before the weight of the metal chuck on his lower half was removed completely. The beam, no longer blocked, slid upwards, peeping out of his stomach, once more. The final spasm of pain his stomach endured, caused his eyes to roll upwards, eye lids sliding shut, as darkness consumed his consciousness and agony.

_End Chapter 33_

**I literally had to set aside hours of my time to create this chapter, since I had a difficult time to describe everything involving the portal and the injuries the elder Pines sustained. Finally wrote this all out though, which I'm quite proud of! If you didn't quite enjoy the angst of this chapter, next chapter will be a light one, dealing with the recovery everyone with go through with. And, Gideon's birthday (for real this time, like I actually wrote some of the birthday scene)! Anyways, notes for this chapter included only one; I made the shutdown button and the keys inside the control room, instead of the portal room like in "Not What He Seems", simply because it was more of a convenience for how I wrote out this scene. And, as always with every chapter, favorites, followers, and reviews are highly appreciated!  
**


	35. Chapter 34

_Chapter 34_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. _THIS IS PART ONE OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE._  
**

"Ugh...w-what...what the...?" Stan grumbled into the darkness, glasses missing from his face. He reached out to his night stand, but frowned, when his hands found air instead. His mind felt thick with a fog swirling around, the recent memories unable to be reached. His hand grasped at the air, attempting to find any holding that his glasses could be on. His eyes were as blurry as his mind. Stan was startled as he brushed across a thick and soft substance, nearly as though he was grasping a handful of hair, a prickly sensation beginning to take hold of his fingertips. "What the he-?"

"Are you looking for your glasses, Grunkle Stan?" His grand-niece questioned near him, causing a jolt of surprise on his part.

"Uh, yeah...what...w-what's going on, sweetie? I'm sorta...ugh, m-my head feels sorta...ugh..." He moaned dizzily, feeling distant from his body, hand dropping from the silky hair he had gripped.

"Dr. Thompson said you would feel confused, cause of the all morphine he gave you...hold on, let me turn on the light..." A moment later, the light clicked on, causing him to squint against the brightness, eyes burning. "Here."

His glasses were pressed onto his face, Mabel's face swimming into view, revealing bandages to be wrapped around her head, covering her forehead. She appeared concerned by his behavior, though he felt as though her condition should be more concerning than any state he was in. His eyebrows furrowed together, eyeing the bandages. "Are you ok, kiddo?"

She frowned. "Grunkle Stan, you just had surgery and you're asking me if I'm ok?"

"Surg-? What are y-Oh..._Oh_. Shoot, where's Dipper?" He abruptly recalled the entire events that led him into the hospital in the first place, though his first thoughts jumped to the missing twin and his condition.

"He went to the bathroom..."

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah, he's not really hurt...um, Dr. Thompson told me to get him when you wake up." Mabel reached over his bed, pressing a button labelled "**NURSE**", on the railing on either side of his body.

"What about Gideon?" He continued on, distracted from the comment by his concern.

Mabel frowned. "Um...well...uhhh..."

"Good evening, Stanley," Doctor Dick Thompson greeted, as he entered the room, coat billowing behind him, leaving the rest of Mabel's words a mystery. He reached out to the sack of morphine dangling above the elder man's bag, poking the bag with his pen, before writing on the sheet on his clipboard his observations. Without a glance upwards, he continued on. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh...a little...numb and lightheaded...my fingers feel all tingly, but I think that's all..."

"Those are simply side effects of morphine, so you shouldn't worry much about that...Mabel, perhaps you and your brother head to the cafeteria. I know you two haven't ate since this morn-oh, yesterday morning and you need to keep up your strength if you want to be completely released from here."

"But, I-" She began to protest.

"Mabel, I need to speak to your grandfather, alone, please," Mabel finally deflated, reaching up to her bandages, stroking the material. She nodded after a moment, before standing from the seat she was in, heading out from the room. He glanced up from the clipboard, facing morphing into a scowl at the injured man before him. "Now that she's gone...What the hell is going on, Stan?"

"Look, it's really complicated and I-"

"Well, I have all day to hear it."

"Dick, this...oh, _shit_, where's my-?" His eyes had widened as he remembered his brother was back.

"Your son?"

Stan blinked in confusion. "Uh, yeahhhhh."

"Stanley Jr. is still out," The doctor sighed, as Stan realized that one of the twins had perhaps told the doctor that his twin brother was his actually his son. He supposed that would make more sense than having a twin brother half your age. "We had to give him a high dosage of sedatives, considering the amount of pain he would be in, if he woke. That's why I'm a bit surprised that you're awake now, though I'm glad you're not in pain at the moment."

He frowned at this. "Uh, how long have I been out?"

"Well, Dipper called me Thursday morning and it's Friday nigh-excuse me, early Saturday morning, so roughly two days."

"Two days? Jesus...And, how's Stanley's injuries?"

"Well, his injury on his shoulder was the worse, the muscles torn into from the...'bear' attack. They should mostly mend, though the function of his arm well no longer be as strong as his other one anymore."

The elder man squeezed his eyes shut, guilt consuming him. "...damn it..."

"It's not as bad as you believe it to be. Most of the function will be regained within time. I was slightly worried by his leg injury, but that was mostly a surface wound...you, honestly, are lucky to be alive I must say...moving that heap of metal on top of you was a bad move on my part, I must say..." He finished off sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"As a doctor, I should of known better than to move any items from the scene, before accessing the damage done to the patient. I'm sorry fo-"

"Just tell me what the damage was, Dick." He cut off his friend, not wanting to hear the apology.

He glanced down at his clipboard, sighing, before drilling off the injuries. "The metal pole went cleanly through your stomach, out through your back, when you were first lying on it. You attempted to sit up it seemed as some point, because the opening increased in size from the movement. Luckily, it wasn't anywhere close to penetrating your spine, since it was off to the side of your stomach, instead of directly through the middle. When you were in surgery though...well... this is where it becomes odd, as your injury was already...well...it was..."

"It was what?" He prompted the confused doctor.

"The exit wound had nearly closed itself up, which I don't quite understand how in that amount of time could be poss-" Stan's ear rang at the sentence, the echoes of Bill Cipher haunting his mind, lost in the past. _As I told you,_ _you can't die, as you're part of my wheel, and my wheel has just begun it's movement._ He couldn't breathe at the thought, after all these years, the notion that destiny controlled when he would die, caused him distress. "-ley? Are you in pain?"

He blinked, returning to the quiet hospital room. "Uh, yeah, I mean no. I'm fine. I was just thinking that it is weird, like you were saying, is all..."

Dick's eyes narrowed at him, though he didn't question that topic further. "I'm quite curious about the 'bear' though. They typically don't attack folks around here, unless provoked, so my question is...what was your son doing to provoke one?"

He figured one of twins told the doctor this lie as well and realized they wouldn't quite know that unprovoked bear attacks were rare, due to living more in the city. It seemed he hadn't taught them to lie in tense situations as well as he had originally believed he had. He needed to think fast to correct the mistake, but his mind continued to feel unnaturally foggy from the drugs coursing through his veins. "Uh... uhhhh...he uh...he got scared, since he hadn't seen one before... and uh...sorta freaked out. I tried to pull him away, but he got attacked before I could..."

"Hmmm, I see...and you brought him to your secret basement, instead of a hospital why exactly?"

Shit. "Uhhhhh...well, uhhh...I thought I could fix him up myself?"

"...Stan, I've known you 20 years and that's the crap you come up with? Honestly, from your reputation, I'm not impressed."

"Well, I'm not the one to come up with the bear story, so that lie ain't on me."

"Well, I suppose listening to your granddaughter, who believes a unicorn lives in the Northwest manor, wasn't the brightest idea on my part. Would you like to finally inform me of the truth though? Or, is this gonna be like the other thousand times you've averted the truth?"

Stan gulped, glancing away, feeling guilty about the lies he had told one of his few friends. "Dick...I...I can't..."

Dick hummed. "Well, I suppose I never will know exactly what your secret basement was for...anyways, at the rate you're healing, you'll be out by Monday."

"Dick, seriously, I wish I could tell y-"

"I'm going to check your injury now, Pines," He snapped on a pair of gloves, ignoring the wince he received at the use of his friend's last name. He set down the clipboard and tore Stan's covers from his body. He grasped the material of the elder man's hospital gown up, revealing his skin to the cool hospital air. The doctor gently tugged off the surgical bandage over his wound, revealing a stitched up wound in the front, partially healed skin combined with the stitching, though it appeared that they could be removed soon. "You don't have to look, if you feel squeamish."

"Nah, I've seen worse. Just don't touch i-" Stan released a gasp, as Dick's finger prodded near the opening, he felt a spasm of pain consume him.

"Is it tender there?"

"Yes, yes! Don-_Ow_! Stop touching it!" Stan swatted away the hands, the tingles of pain vanishing.

"I was worried that the dosage for your pain might of been too high, but it seems fine for the moment. We'll begin to ween you off later in the day. You may experience pains when we ween you off at a certain point, but you'll simply have to endure them."

"Alright, alright, just stop touching it!" He groused, while the doctor rolled his eyes at his dramatic cries. Dick began to reapply a new bandage over his wound, pressing down onto it, causing the spasms to briefly return. "...uuuugh...h-how's the kids' injuries?"

"Dipper was mostly unharmed, though he has bruising on his sternum, from an unknown object digging into the area. He did have two separate occasions where he had endured a panic attack while you were in surgery, but we were able to calm him down."

"God, that kid just never can relax...always worried about something..."

"That's what occurs when you have anxiety."

"Yeah, I know, I know...what about Mabel though? She had all those bandages on her head."

"A foreign object collided with her forehead, likely from the explosion, causing her to forcefully make contact with a wall. She's pretty bruised up on her back and I had to stitch up an open wound on her head. She also has a minor concussion, though I would of suspected worse when I first had a glimpse of her body. And, Gideon...well, since his nose has been broken before, it happened again, and is heavily bruised over this time. I had to pop it back into place, though I did it when he was unconsciousness, since I wasn't sure about his reaction. He woke up before Mabel did, Thursday night. He was pretty worried about you, though I assured him you were alright. You had just gotten out of surgery. Mabel woke around Friday afternoon."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Since I'm not a surgeon, I wasn't there during your son's operation, but he apparently woke, even though we had him heavily sedated, when they were half way through...he was pretty hysterical, though I would be too, if I woke having a scalpel being dug around inside my shoulder. They ended up slicing through one his tendons when he jerked upwards, but they were able to successfully stitch the damage back up."

"Of course he woke up..." He sighed out.

"...Stan, I would advise you against attempting to get up and finding your son for the time being. You're in no condition to be up and about."

"I ain't gonna do that."

"_Stan._"

"Ok, ok, I won't, I promise." He rolled his eyes, grumbling, strangely reminded of his brother by the tone aimed at him.

"I'll let you know when he's awake and perhaps we can eventually arrange for you to visit his room...the rate you're healing at, you should be fine the day after tomorrow..." Dick informed him. "...you know, I had to lie to my fellow employees about your condition."

The elder man gulped, glancing away. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. If I had told them that you actually had an exit wound that had closed within minutes, they would of been stunned beyond any of their imaginations. If word had gotten out about your miraculous healing, you would of been in a world of trouble. And, image if the patient's grandchildren had to be sent home, after the patient's family had been informed that he was incapable of taking care of them. One would think, that after lying about a patient's condition, not call their relatives, both which could endanger my job, would the patient actually tell me the truth."

"Shit, Dick! You're making me feel like I'm a asshole with the guilt tripping you're doing! You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you!" He cursed, stomach beginning to feel tight from the pressure of his yells.

"I have been your friend for 20 years, I've seen you suffer through your alcoholism, and even tear apart the relationship with your nephew, and you still refuse to trust me!"

"I DIDN'T TEAR APART OUR RELATIONSHIP, HE DID IT HIMS-" He cut himself off with a strangled gasp, hand grasping at his stomach, hot pain jabbing at him through the haze of drugs he was on.

"Stanley, take a deep breath..." The doctor told him, hand pressing onto his shoulder, steadying him as he choked on his pain. Stanford gasped inwards, holding in his breath, before releasing it as a shudder, pain reducing by a fraction. He continued to repeat the action, before the pain completely melted away from his senses. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't of started an argument with you when you're injured like this. I honestly wish you would put a bit of faith into me though."

"I..I know...but..." Stan started at one of the few people he called friend in his life, the concern in the younger man's eyes, the trust he had placed into him over the years. The last person he had done that with, attempted to erase the existence of his twin from his own mind. Though, despite that knowledge, he continued to trust Fiddleford McGucket, though not with his life any longer. Richard Thompson hadn't betrayed him in any form and he knew he needed to take a chance, for the friend he had thought he had all those years ago. He released a weary sigh, sweat dripping from his browline. "...My name isn't Stanley; it's Stanford."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Your son isn't named after you."

"Uh, actually, he's my...twin brother."

"...That's quite difficult to believe."

"Yeah, I know...it gets more hard to believe, trust me. I guess I should start from the beginning...Uh, my brother needed help to do this project he was working on, so he came to Gravity Falls, to meet up with Fiddleford McGucket..."

_~!-?-!~_

Dipper wrung his hands, pacing in front of the hospital room that his great-uncle and Dr. Thompson were in. He had been completely hysterical when the doctor had caused the elder man to lose consciousness. Dr. Thompson had released a series of curses at that point and had to send him away, to Gideon and Mabel, so that he couldn't witness any other traumatizing events. He had immediately scrambled from the heap of metal they were on, falling to his knees a few feet away from his sister, losing the contents of his stomach. He had begun to sob, voice coming out as a blubber, as he apologized repeatedly to his great-uncle, for nearly trapping him in a pocket dimension. He was brought back from his memory of the event, as Mabel grasped onto his shoulder, halting his pacing. "Bro, you need to chillax."

"I-I can't! Grunkle Stan is-"

"-fine. I told you that already."

"I-I know, but, I just want to see him, so I can just...see myself t-that he's ok..."

"You will, but Dr. Thompson didn't want us in t-" She was cut off by the sound of muffled angry yelling coming from the room, causing Dipper's face to crumple with worry. "Grunkle Stan is probably just mad about, uh, the lost of money, since we keep closing the Mystery Shack. He's ok...I think..."

The yelling died off, as Dipper nodded, releasing a sniffle. "Yeah...he would be mad about that...ha..."

"See? He's done yelling now and pretty soon we can both see him!"

"Yeah...w-where's Gideon? He's going to miss seeing him."

"I think he said he was going to go see his mom...she still hasn't woken up..." Mabel trailed off, feeling saddened by this fact.

"Oh...Do...Do you think she'll ever wake up?"

"I don't really know...I hope so..."

The door swung open, revealing the blank faced doctor, whose hands were clenching his clipboard. Mabel caught a glimpse of the sentences scrawling across his papers, gulping.** Decrease morphine dosage tonight...may need to be watched, in case he decides to sneak off to see son... **He shifted the board, hiding the rest of his sentences, as he stared at them. "You two may see your grandfat...uncle now..."

"Wait, you know?" Mabel asked, appearing surprised.

"Yes...your uncle told me many fascinating details...I need to head home and think this over...if you two need anything, ask Nurse Glenda for help..." He trailed off, shaking his head as he mumbled to himself. "...multiple dimensions..."

The twins glanced at one another, before watching him disappear down the darkened hallway, leaving them behind. The moment the doctor was out of sight, Dipper dashed into Stan's room, crying out his name in concern. The elder man cringed, when Dipper wrapped his arms around his aching torso, biting back the cry of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, stroking the 13-year-old's hair, voice attempting to come out steady. "H-Hey there, kiddo."

The head of his great-nephew was burrowed into his chest and he buried his own face into the brunet's hair, breathing in the scent of pen ink and faded bug spray. He felt his concern melt away, replaced with an ache about what he had seen. He knew Dipper needed him close, especially after nearly witnessing him die before his eyes. Dipper's voice came out hoarse with emotion, words wobbling. "I-I missed you..."

"Missed you, too..." He muttered back and his great-nephew squeezed his torso tighter.

"What am I? Chopped bacon?" Mabel interrupted the scene, causing the pair to glance up at her scowling face, hands on her hips.

Stan grinned at her, shaking his head. "Come here, you little gremlin."

Mabel gulped, eyes filling with tears, before she sprinted to his opposite side, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder. He released a hiss of pain, before stroking her hair with his other hand. The twins wept into him and he sighed, feeling content. He glanced up from the pair, feeling eyes on him, revealing Gideon to be hesitantly lingering by the doorway. Stan studied the swelling of his nose and the bruising surrounding it, though he didn't comment. When he realized that the freckled boy wasn't moving towards him, he rolled his eyes. "You gonna stand there all day or come cry on me, too?"

Gideon warily approached his bedside, eyeing the twins. Stan waved him over, beginning to grow irritated with how long the 10-year-old was taking. "It's now or never, kid. I ain't doing a group hug like this, again."

"I-I'm n-not..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not what?"

"I-I'm n-not f-family..." He whispered, barely aloud.

The twin's head whipped around at Gideon, appearing upset by his statement. Dipper's voice came out confident, the stutter vanished from his voice. "You _are _family, Gideon!"

"Yeah, and we _love_ you!" Mabel continued on.

"Uh, yeah, what they said. Now, get over here." Stan concluded.

Gideon's lip wobbled, before he leaned forward, hugging the other side of the elder man's neck. A hand reached out to stroke his hair, causing him to burst into tears. "T-Thank y-you..."

_~!-?-!~_

"About damn time you woke up," His brother's voice wavered into his ears, as his eyes sluggishly fluttered open. Stanley licked his lips, releasing a groan, as Stan's face appeared, sitting in the chair before him, clad in a white button-up and a pair of dark slacks. He flipped through a magazine labelled "**Gold Chains for Old Men Vol. 28**", featuring the imagine of an older man in a water float, surrounded by women in swimsuits holding golden chains and wristwatches. He frowned at the cover, feeling creeped out by the image it held. "I'm talking to you, poindexter."

"I...I know...just...what the...hell are you reading?" He mumbled, voice thick with disuse.

"Only the greatest magazine in the history of the world."

"That's what...you said about Mad...magazine when we were...little..."

"Yeah, well, things change..." Stan muttered, eyes appearing distant, as the magazine laid in his lap.

Stanley would of picked up on his tone of voice, if he hadn't been as drugged as he was now. His voice came out slow, even to him, causing his words to slur together as he spoke. "Where...Where am I?"

"The hospital. You passed out cause of all the blood you lost."

"Oh...mhmm...what year...is it, again?" He asked, eyes fluttering shut.

"2012. It's July 29th, 2012."

"2012...ugh...2012...it's...2012..."

"Yeah, like I just said."

"Why is everything so...fuzzy?"

"Cause you're on morphine. More than I was, apparently, since you're acting like you're in the god damned clouds."

"Oh...you...alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just minor damage, like I said before you passed out."

"Oh...good...mhmm...can't feel my...shoulder..."

"That's supposed to be a good thing, poindexter. _They_ tore pretty badly into your shoulder...and...Stanley...I'm...I'm sorry...if I didn't distract you when I showed up, they wouldn't have hurt you and if I didn't make that dea-" He began to ramble, voice tight with stress.

"You're rambling...stop..."

"No, seriously, I almost got you kille-"

"...no...you helped me..."

"What? How can you say that? Didn't you just hear what I said?"

"I did...you didn't almost kill me though...I'm here, because...you saved from there...you saved my life..."

"Jesus Christ, how could you forgive me after the deal I made?!" Stan exploded.

He frowned. "Deal?"

"Yeah, the deal, you know, the one I made with..." He trailed off, observing the confusion on his brother's face, before hunching over, hands forming into fists as realization hit him square in the face. "...you don't know what I did."

"What...did you do?"

"...It's my fault you were stuck there in the first place."

"What?"

His fists shook, becoming overwhelmed with nerves, yet he continued on, aware after he revealed the truth, his twin would be consumed with fury at his foolish actions he committed years before. "I made a deal with...B-Bill Cipher and in exchange...he would get to control my body. When the portal opened, he took me over and attacked F-Fiddles and the rope fell from his hands when I...b-broke his arm...all because I wanted to make that damn deal..."

"...Why?"

He felt tears welling in his eyes, but he held them back. "I-It's not important...it's my fault though, so if you hate me and never wanna see my ugly mug again, I ain't gonna hold it against y-"

"You're rambling...again...and I don't hate...you...I never could...you're my brother," Stan's head lifted at the words, gazing into his twin's hazy eyes, tears finally rolling down his aged cheeks. "It doesn't matter...why you made the deal...I'll always love you...Stanford..."

The elder man's lips wobbled at these words. "S-Stanley...I...I..."

"You can...tell me."

"I...you and Fidds were so...upset that the p-portal wouldn't work and I couldn't do anything a-and I _wanted _to h-help and...oh god...I-I'm sorry!" He completely fell apart at the end, the emotions of his brother appearing before him after all these years and the regrets he had held in, came washing out of his heart, leaving him a sobbing mess.

"Oh, _Stanford_...you didn't..." Stanley whispered, realizing his actions.

"I d-didn't know that would h-happen...I'm _so_ s-sorry, god..." He trailed off, hunching over, hands grasping the material of his slacks. When he heard the moan released from his brother, his head shot upwards, revealing Stanley to be panting from his attempts to pull himself into a sitting position. Stan leaned forward, wrapping one of his arms around his waist, the other on his uninjured shoulder, assisting him to sit up. "What're you do-?"

He was startled, as the uninjured arm wrapped around his shoulders, Stanley flush against him, as he buried his face into the elder man's button up. His arms naturally wrapped around his twin's back, confusion overcoming him. "Uh, what...uh, w-what are you doing?"

"Hugging...you..." He breathed out, voice slurred with exhaustion.

"Uh, why...?"

"...did he hurt...you?"

"Wait, w-who?"

"Did...Cipher...hurt you?" Stan flashed back to the horror of his brother being trapped in another dimension, the reaction Fiddleford had given him, the nights of agony that followed, triangles mocking him throughout his attempts of sleep. In flashes, he mind provided him with images of himself staring at pictures of his brother for hours on end, Fiddleford ignoring his attempts of communication, the whiskey bottles piled throughout his living room as he would remember every detail of Bill Cipher controlling his body. The whiskey, oh god, he would only leave the house to buy that, that and Twinkies, his brother's favorite dessert. He drank and only ate Twinkies, as he body began to waste away, from his neglect. The triangles he hallucinated, the thick blood cascading across the floor, an endless flow of a river, drenching him it the wake that followed each and every night, NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, STANLEY'S BLOOD HAD BEEN DRENC-"-ford...?"

He jolted away from Stanley, as he removed himself from his flashbacks, frozen in place. He covered his face, glasses crooked, as he peeked through his fingers, viewing the red slipping down his twin's body. Shit, he couldn't do this anymore, the flashbacks were beginning to return, triggered further by thoughts of Stanley. He felt a hand run down the center of his chest, as though the movements were uncontrolled, the hand feebly clinging to the material, the wetness of thickened blood seeping into his button up. "What's wrong...?"

His eyes darted up from the hand, parts of brother's face seen in-between each finger, blood coming down in rivets, rivets thicker than the rivets of sweat beginning to take form on his own face. He dropped his hands, glasses shifting back into place, before he smiled at Stanley. No need to alarm him, especially with situations he had dealt with on his own for years. "Nothing. Yeah, he did hurt me, but it healed up. No scars or anything, Sixer."

The younger Pines grimaced, leaning back, eyes fluttering shut. "Please...don't call me that anymore...call me poindexter...or Lee...that name...reminds me of when...Bill would call me that..."

The blood continued to haunt his vision, as his brother faded off, back to a deep slumber, the distant cackling of the dream demon echoing around him. He would take these visions to the grave, the explicit details of the visions and his suicide attempt. Not a soul would discover these, though the dream demon would always hold the knowledge. "Ok, Lee..."

_End Chapter 34_

**_THIS IS PART ONE OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE. _To celebrate the end of the world (I'm confident everyone reading this knows exactly what I'm referring to), I present to you lovely readers, a double update! Now, on to the next chapter, where I finally keep with my promise and have Gideon's 11th birthday, July the 31st!  
**


	36. Chapter 35

_Chapter 35_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. _THIS IS PART TWO OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER YET, GO BACK AND DO SO NOW.  
_**

"Happy birthday, to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Gideonnnn, happy birthday to you!" The gathering surrounding Gideon Gleeful sang to him, causing the now 11-year-old to blush at all of the attention. When the singing finished off, he leaned forward, blowing out the flames of the eleven candles along the edges of the chocolate cake. The gathering cheered, causing him to blush deeper, burying his face into his hands as they laughed at his reaction. The brunette to his right punched in in the arm, nearly causing him to fall over, and the brunet to his left laughed.

"Happy birthday, kid." A hand from behind ruffled his hair, causing wisps to fall into his face. He glanced upwards, catching a glimpse Stanford Pines beaming down at him.

"T-Thank y-you, S-Stan..." He mumbled in reply.

Wendy Corduroy grinned at him, as she began to cut his cake. "Look at you! Practically a teenager, dude! Pretty soon you get to do a bunch of cool stuff, like going to the mall without an adult!"

She placed his slice onto a brightly colored paper plate, stabbing a fork into it. Gideon smiled shyly at her, mumbling his gratitude, before munching onto his richly flavored cake. Across the table was Stanley Pines, a sling around his arm, to keep his shoulder in place, appearing to be lost in a memory. Though he would have permanent damage to his arm, in time, most of the function would return. "I remember when I turned eleven...I finally got into the 6th grade and got to go on the school's field trip to the local museum...it was everything I dreamed it to be and more..."

"Only you would be excited about something as boring as that, poindexter." Stan replied, plopping down onto the bench beside him.

The younger twin glared at him. "You may of found it boring, but I thought it was quite rich with history an-"

"Blah, blah, blah."

Stanley rolled his eyes. "After all these years, I thought you would of matured a bit."

"Mature? He hasn't been in anyway mature whatsoever in the 20 years I've known him." Dick Thompson responded, causing the pair to burst into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want nerds, but I'm the owner of a business, so that makes me a hell of a lot more _mature_ than you two."

"If you call this dump a business. I honestly cannot believe you would turn my house into this mess!"

"_Our_ house! And, I'll have you know, that the Mystery Shack is a respectable business!" He replied, crossing his arms.

"If you call fighting over a dollar bill with an eight-year-old respectable, Stan." Wendy inputted, finishing off her slice.

"I would fire you, if I could, Corduroy."

Gideon observed the scene, feeling his heart bloom at the lighthearted scene surrounding him, recalling his last birthday to be a living hell. Becoming ten, meant ten lashing with a belt in his father's eyes. He shook that thought from his head though, knowing it would only bring him down. He finished his slice of delicious cake (it had been years since he had actually had a real one) and observed the twins flicking pieces of cake at one another from their forks. A piece hit Dipper in they eye, causing him to cry out, before laughing. "Mabel!"

"Haha! Score! I win! Alpha twin, alpha twin!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air with triumph, fork flying from her hand.

"Ow, my eye!" Stan cried out from behind.

"I told you that taking off your glasses to appear 'cooler' than me would be foolish." Stanley chided, as the younger set of twins laughed about the exchange between the older set of twins.

"Shut up, Lee." He mumbled, replacing his glasses back onto his face.

"Sorry, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper called over to his great-uncle.

"That was you?! I'm gonna get you for that, you little gremlin!" Stan called back, rising from his seat.

"Wait, I didn't do i-" He cut himself off as he realized the elder man was heading in his direction, hoping up from the seat, and scampering off.

"Come back here!" Stan yelled after him, sprinting to catch up.

"Stan, you're going to overexert yourself and possibly reopen you woun-Stop chasing your nephew!" The doctor called out, though shook his head, upon realization that his friend was ignoring him.

"He really hasn't changed." Stanley sighed.

"Crap! That's what I forgot! The ice cream!" Wendy cried out, causing the group to shift their attention to her, as she slapped her forehead.

"Cake _and_ ice cream?" Stanley incredulously asked. "Back when I was a kid, it was either one or the other."

The redhead rolled her eyes at the comment. "You sound like Stan, when he goes off on one of his rants about how teens back in his day weren't as 'bad' as teens are today."

"He said that? He was just as bad as a teenager could be today. He used to ditch class and play pranks on the teachers. He was the biggest trouble maker there was!"

"Was? He still is a troublemaker. I mean, look what happened to your house." Dick laughed at this.

"I have to agree on that one, the house looks terrible with all those tacky decorations." The younger Pines twin laughed with him.

"Ha, ha! No way, dude! I honestly pegged him as the geeky type, that pretended to be cooler than he really was." Wendy laughed.

"You have the latter part right. He always acted as though he was popular, though he wasn't. He wasn't much for the 'geeky' in life though. The closet you probably get him to that territory is perhaps his love of Star Trek. It's one of the few things we have in common!"

"He's a Trekkie? I didn't know that! I love Star Trek! I used to stay up late watching reruns on TV!"

"A 'Trekkie', huh? Haven't heard that one before..."

"Oh, snap, dude! I almost forgot about the ice cream, again!" She gasped, beginning to stand from the bench, then winked at Gideon. "Hope you liked chocolate ice cream, because I bought a lot of it."

The freckled boy, whom had been observing the scene before him with steadily growing bemusement at how everyone was acting, hesitantly nodded. He felt somewhat embarrassed each time she spoke to him, considering how upbeat and confident she was, while he seemed to nearly disappear into the wallpaper compared to her. Each time she did pay him attention, he couldn't function his mouth well enough to be as outgoing as she was. So, he would simply nod mutely had each question and phrase she would aim at him. She fist pumped the air. "Sweet! I guessed right!"

Dick and Stanley chuckled at her youthful energy, watching as she went off into the forest, intending on heading to her cabin for the the rest of the dessert. "I'll be back in like ten minutes!"

"UGH!" Stan cried out in the distance and the doctor's head immediately whipped around, observing the elder man clenching at his side. Dipper was a distance away from him, frowning, as though deciding if he was tricking him or not. When he began to hunch over, he appeared concerned at his behavior. He gasped out a curse, nearly kneeling completely to the ground.

"What did I tell you, Stanford?" Dick called out, sounding a mixture of irate and perturbed.

"J-Just come over and help me!" He choked out back to him.

"This has been my life for the past 20 years." The doctor muttered to Stanley.

"That was mine for 41 years," He replied with a sigh, the doctor heading over to the frantic brunet and gasping elder man. He turned back to the table, before frowning at his granddaughter, who was twirling a lock of her hair, eyes distant. "Are you alright, Mabel? You've been awfully quiet."

She ceased the twirling, beaming up at him. "I was just thinking about how much Gideon is gonna love the present I made him!" Gideon blushed at her sentence, fidgeting with the end of his plum colored sweater vest, in an attempt to keep his hands busy. She giggled at his face, leaning in closer to him, voice coming out as an eerie whisper. "You're gonna _love_ it."

He paused in his fidgeting, paling significantly, as he glanced up at her eyes. He frowned, at her eyes, revealing them to the ordinary chocolate color, not a trace of the glowing blue hue he had grown to fear. She tilted her head to the side in curiosity at her friend and he witnessed a lock of her hair caressing down her shoulder, revealing it to be the same color as his own. The pure white color, dead and tainted, one he had grown from the year Jill Rephic had possessed his body. Her eyes flashed the blue hue, as though warning him, and he glanced away. "I-I c-can't w-wait..."

"Good! I should get them now!" She exclaimed, before turning to her grandfather. "_Stanley_, wanna help me get the presents?"

"I'm afraid I can't be much help, when I can only use one arm." He answered, gesturing to his shoulder.

"Pleasssse? You can just pick up some smaller ones!"

He gazed into her innocently sweet eyes and sighed. "Oh, alright."

"Yay!" She clapped her hands, hopping up from the bench, grasping onto his good arm, tugging at it. "Let's go!"

"Alright, sweetheart, slow down though! I'm still injured, so I can't overexert myself."

"Let's go then! I want Gideon to see all his presents!"

"Alright, alright, let's head on in for them," He turned to Gideon, noticing how he had hung his head. "Are you alright, Gideon?"

He bobbed his head up and down in reply, avoiding eye contact with Mabel, fearing her eyes would flash that horrifying color. "I-I'm f-fine..."

"Well, alright then. If anyone asks, we went inside for your gifts."

"O-Ok..." He mumbled in reply, observing the pair heading inside of the Mystery Shack, leaving him with the guilt of his silence.

_~!-?-!~_

Stanford limped back towards the bench, his side screaming in protest, at each movement. The doctor's arms were wrapped around his waist and underneath his armpits, in an attempt to assist him, though he tried not to lean heavily into Dick. Dipper hovered beside him, eyebrows furrowed in concern, appearing to be on the verge of tears. He rolled his eyes, before smiling wearily down at his great-nephew. "I'm fine, kid."

Dipper appeared startled at the comment, before nodding, stress reducing a fraction at the comfort he was given. By the time they had arrived at the bench, Stan was releasing a barely contained set of pants. He swung his legs over, settling himself onto the bench with the elder man wiping the sweat from his brow, as Dipper sat next to him, before glancing up at Gideon from across the table. The freckled boy bit his lip, glancing over at the Mystery Shack. He raised an eyebrow at his, before realizing Stanley and Mabel were missing. "Where'd they go, Gideon?"

"I-Inside...g-getting t-the p-presents..." He muttered in reply, hands clasped together, on the tabletop.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing..." He had began to twiddle his thumbs, staring at the wood below him.

"Gideon, are you alright?" Dick questioned, noticing how tense his former patient had become.

"Uh-huh...I-I'm f-fine..."

Dipper reached across the table taking his hands and unclasping them. He squeezed his friend's hand, voice coming out patient and comforting. "Gideon? I know you're not ok...what's wrong?"

His eyes welled with tears, squeezing the hand back. "I-I _am_ o-ok...I-I d-don't n-need h-help..."

"I never said you did...do you need help though? What happened?"

Gideon's entire body tensed at the tone his friend was presenting him, tugging his hand away frantically. Dipper wouldn't be able to assist him or possibly understand the constant control she had over him. He had been possessed himself for a day and was harassed at times by Bill Cipher, but he couldn't possibly understand how deeply ingrained her words had become inside him. There were times that he could hear Jill Rephic in his ears, as clear as a bell. His words came out in a harsh gasp. "L-Leave me alone!"

The brunet flinched at his tone, jerked his hand away. Stan leaned forward, eyes narrowing him, voice exiting his lips as a hiss. "You better watch the way you tre-"

"_Stanford_, please." Dick interrupted.

The elder man snapped his mouth shut, realizing his tone had been threatening. He released a breath, aware that Gideon wasn't being aggressive in order to purposely hurt Dipper. He was actually afraid and deflecting his feelings off to those around him. He knew this better than anyone, recalling all the moments he had done so in his life. The worst had been when he had returned from prison and snapped every time Stanley would say a certain phrase or word, that would remind him of the year he had spent in Colombia. "Gideon? Come on, kid, we just want to help."

Gideon glanced up at him, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. He wasn't confident if Stan could understand what he felt, though he considered he would better understand than Dipper, since the elder man had had a dream demon possessing his body for a week. He was afraid that he couldn't understand, the fear of betraying Jill Rephic and the wrath that could follow. He opened his mouth, though choked on his words, unable to convey his thoughts. Stan frowned at his behavior. "Is it about...your Dad? I told you already that you don't need to go to the trial if you don't wan-"

The 11-year-old shook his head, a constant dripping of tears down his face. "Is it your Mom? We know you miss her, but she's still hanging in there and one she'll be awake, a-"

He hung his head, shoulders trembling, attempting to speak. "N-No...I-I...I-I...I-I..."

"Is it...Jill Rephic?" Gideon choked at the name, hands grasping onto the material of his sweater vest, hands clammy, as he whimpered his confirmation. "Shoot, kid, she can't have you anymore, do you understand? She'll never be inside you and take over your mind, ag-"

"S-SHE D-DOESN'T N-NEED T-TO B-BE! S-SHE'S A-ALWAYS T-THERE!" Gideon wailed in dismay, hand grasping onto the hair on the sides of his head, tears streaming from his eyes.

"...perhaps this is a personal matter...I'll be over there for now..." Dick muttered, slipping away from bench holding the remaining Pines, though the trio barely registered his leaving, caught up in Gideon's mental breakdown.

"Jesus, kid..."

"G-Gideon? S-She's not here...s-she would of showed herself, l-like Bil-" Dipper began anxiously, in his attempt to comfort his friend, though he ceased his speaking as his head began to shake.

"Gideon...you trust me, don't you, kiddo?" The elder man asked, shaking his head, as his grand-nephew attempted to reach across the tabletop to touch Gideon once more.

The freckled boy tugged at his hair, strands falling from his head, face beat red, as he choked on each sob. "I-I...I-I d-don't k-know..."

"Please, just answer me. Do you trust me?"

"I-I'm n-not s-supposed...t-to t-trust a-anyone..."

"Is that what _she_ said?"

"T-Trust...n-no o-one..."

"Gideon, listen to me. When Bill Cipher was inside me, do you what he constantly told me?"

"..."

"He told me to 'don't think about it'. When he would physically hurt me, he would tell me that. When I wondered if I would ever have my body back, when I wondered if those around me would be ok, even when I was starving for a bite of pretty anything by that point, he would tell me that. Pretty soon, I stopped thinking. About everything. I would just sit there inside my body, watching everything happening around me. Do you know what saved me from that?"

Dipper stared in shock at his great-uncle, though Gideon remained the same throughout the speech. "My brother did. I didn't react to anything Cipher did to me and everyone around me, until he told Stanley 'don't think about it'. He couldn't get the portal to work and was really upset about it, so Cipher told him what he had always told me. My brother almost did give up on the whole thing, because of what Cipher said. I didn't want him to stop thinking about things like me, so I _did_ think about it. And, when I did, I had my body back, just for a second. I told him to always think about it and keep trying. And, he did that."

"..."

"Look, what I'm trying to say, after spilling my guts like this, is that she's always there gonna be there, only when you do what she tells you to do. She says 'trust no one' and you do, you really do have no one to trust, and then you're alone."

Gideon stared up at the elder man, sniffling. "I-I d-don't w-wanna b-be a-alone..."

"If you don't want to give in, just tell me the truth. If we're back to the start, the start where you didn't trust me at your house, then, well, I guess I have to say sorry, because I've obviously failed at helping you, like I promised back then."

His lips wobbled. "...I-I t-trust y-you..."

"Tell me what's wrong then, Gideon."

"..._s-she_ i-is...M-Mabel i-is..._s-she's_ i-inside h-her..."

There was an ear-piercing scream from inside the Mystery Shack.

_~!-?-!~_

In the darkened hallway, leading to the staircase of the attic, Stanley and Mabel Pines were causing the floorboards to creak beneath their weight. He observed his granddaughter's hair, swishing back and forth with each step she made, though her features were dulled from the lack of light seen. He supposed the window meant to be open, was closed today, as the air conditioner was broken (again, for what was apparently the third time this summer, from what Dipper had told him) and the lack of light would keep the building cool. He thought he witnessed a shade of lighter hair peek out from Mabel's hair, but he supposed he had imagined it, since he couldn't view the streak no longer. "Mabel, are the presents in his and Dipper's room?"

"Uh-huh! We're almost there!" She called back, continuing down the hallway.

He wondered how exactly though would work out, considering the 11-year-old might of had a glimpse of them already, if they were housed in his room. He was about to question her on the matter, before pausing in front of a familiar room. His twin brother's, to be more specific. After all these years, apparently he had remained in the same exact room he had inhabited over 37 years ago. As he stood before the door, he wondered how much of it had changed and how much of it had remained the same, after all, he had yet to view the inside. When they had returned from the hospital yesterday afternoon, Stanford had spent the night in his room, watching over him as he slept. He won't say exactly why he did, though Stanley suspected it was due to the fear of losing him, again. "I wonder..."

He reached out, hand twisting the door handle, before he was startled by his granddaughter's voice. "_Stanley!_"

The older Pines dropped his hand, glancing over to his right, the outline of Mabel visible, her hand waving him over. "Come on! Let's go get the presents."

He sighed, before heading away from the door, towards her. The man supposed he could always go check the room, after the party, with Stanford. "Coming, sweetheart."

They reached the staircase, heading up to the attic, and Mabel sprinted up the stairs, two at a time. He groaned, before smiling fondly. "She always has so much energy..."

Half-way up the staircase, he paused, hearing what sounded to be distant music. He cocked his head to the side, listening to it, realizing it came from the hallways behind him. Stanley wondered why the echos of music presented him with a sense of nostalgia, before realizing this was a song he had heard in his childhood, one of his parents favorites. His lips fluttered into a smile, the image of his mother dancing with his father to this music. He breathed out the name of the tune, reminiscing the slow dances they would partake in. "Uptown Blues..."

"_Stanley!_" He jolted at the tone interrupting his reminiscing, curious of where the music came from. Perhaps Stanford had headed to his room, intending on bringing the record player outside to play for Gideon's birthday. Though, he thought it odd that he would choose this music, over The Eagles or Creedence Clearwater Revival. Perhaps, those records had been lost in the time he had been gone or even sold. His beloved Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan records were probably tossed away, maybe even The Temptations record left behind by Carla, forgotten through the passage of time. Those memories were quite fresh in his mind, but his brother would find those to be faded in his mind. He sighed, wearily sagging against the wall, wondering what life could of been, if he hadn't disappeared. Perhaps he and Fiddle-Wait, what had happened to Fiddleford? He hadn't seen the man since returning, an-"Where are youuuuu?"

Mabel's cry for him, made him lose his train of though, and he continued up the stairs, ignoring the haunting music from behind, the echoes increasing. He frowned at the top of the steps, the music louder than ever, blaring throughout the attic. He observed Mabel staring out the triangle shaped window, realizing for the first time since he had moved into the Shack, that the window reminded him of Bill Cipher. He approached her, the glimpse of the party spread out below them. "Are you watching th-?"

She spun around, arms tightly embracing him a hug, face burying into his stomach. He groaned as his shoulder was jostling, reaching around her shoulders with his good arm, squeezing her. "Sweetheart, I appreciate the affection, though you have to be careful with how you jostle my shoulder. My injuries haven't completely healed yet."

Her hands clasped together, behind his back, squeezing his body tighter. He felt slightly comforted by the way her arms were wrapped around his extended middle and he patted her shoulder. His voice came out slightly pained, wondering where she had gotten the strength to cause him actual pain when she hugged him. "Alright, Mabel, this is beginning to hurt a bit. Could you per-" She tightened her hold even more, causing him to release a gasp, highly pained by her constricted hug. "M-Mabel, p-please t-this h-hurts q-qui-"

His eyes widened, as she glanced up at him, lips stretched unnaturally thin, into a beaming smile. Her eyes glowed a bluish hue, an unearthly and seductive giggle erupt from her mouth. "_A little pain is supposed to be good for you, darling._"

The entire situation clicked into place, remembering how each time she hadn't forgotten the "Grandpa" portion of his name, though he had barely given it a second thought. The hair, in his research he had discovered the prolonged possession had certain side effects, such as mental instability and physical damage to the body. Her hair had begun the dying process, while still attached to her scalp. The music, he had heard music the first time she appeared and a handful of times Bill did. Gideon's adorable nervousness around her was not stemmed from a crush, but from how the familiar possessiveness she presented (yes, his brother informed him the entire situation involving the 11-year-old). No one in the family had cared to tell him, that she still lingered in Gravity Falls, though he supposed now of them were aware that Jill Rephic was inside his granddaughter."Y-You!"

"_It's been such a long, long time, my darling, and oh, how I have missed you!_" She squealed, rubbing her cheek across his stomach, causing him to filch in disgust at her disturbing behavior. "_I've wait such a long time and now I finally have you!_"

"M-Mabel!"

"_Oh, this precious little thing? You know, I thought Gideon was the perfect little slave, but Mabel is even better! Sure, he used to be fun to toy around with, but Mabel caught my interest much more than he has! Her skin is such a soft texture and has the hair of silk. And her soul, oh, it's such a strong one. I am absolutely in love with her! Oh, not as much as you though, darling. She's not as great as you will ever be, but I think she'll be joining us when we leave._"

"Y-You leave...h-her alone!" He choked out, panting from the strain of attempting to speak.

"_Honey, I can see your beautifully brave side peeking out and I love it! I cannot wait for your bravery to be put to the tes-Oh. Shooting Star, sweetie, I would appreciate if you cease your struggling. It furthers the deteriorating proc...oh, look what you've done to your hands!" _Jill cried out, frustration in her tone, as Stanley observed her hands in horror. They had began to age further than the rest of her body, wrinkles sprouting and the skin becoming a grayish hue, dying away before his very eyes.

"P-Please, leave h-her!" He pleaded, hoping he could at least rescue his granddaughter's soul from Jill.

"_Oh, I well, though she will be coming with us to the dre-_NO!" The dream demon's voice morphed into Mabel's at the end, her entire body spasming, releasing her confiding grip on Stanley. As he gasped for breath, her hands clawed through her hair, as she screamed out. Her hands froze seconds later, dropping from her tangled hair, returning to Jill's voice. "_Honey, didn't I just get done telling you to cease your fighting? It's futile at this point, since you can only push me aside for a mere moment._"

"I-I'll willingly go, if you just leave her be, for God's sa-"

"_Have neither of you listened to me? The three of us are leaving for a better world! Even though I do love your bodies, they're not necessary where we're going._"

"Jill, please, she won't survive in the dreamscape! She'll lose her mind! I was lucky that I was only in a pocket dimension and not the compl-"

"O_h, so that's where Bill hid you! What a NAUGHTY dream demon he is!_" Her voice had morphed into a crackling, static-like screech during her sentence, causing Stanley to clap his hands over his ears, in attempt to reduce the painful noise from reaching his eardrums. She appeared to be fuming, hair greying and splitting at the ends, from the stress this was causing Mabel's body.

"S-Stop!" He cried out, brought to his knees from the force of her noise, horrified as the brunette's body died away, as she released a ear piercing scream of agony, obviously not from Jill Rephic, but from Mabel Pines. Tears slid from his eyes, realizing he wouldn't be able to cease the dream demon's abduction of his granddaughter's soul. He had only escaped the first time, due to Bill Cipher's interference with the portal. Those seals he had made around the Shack would of not lasted forever, but he had gotten away, thanks to the triangle. He didn't have any seals or interference from Bill this time though, so he could only watch as she wasted away to nothing. There was a tugging in his stomach and his heart, leading him to have his soul be slowly ripped from his body. The words he had written years ago in journal haunted his mind. Dream demons needed permission to use the body or soul of others, though even with that there would be damage if too much time passed. Forcefully removal or entry though, that could cause the worse damage of all.

"LEE!" He heard Stan scream from behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, the glimpse he received before doing so, was of the ghostly shape of Mabel beginning to exit her deteriorating body, image stretched taunt, as though she was putty. A whirlwind of a rainbows surrounded them both, as she turned a bluish hue, and the wind howled in his ears. He heard the screaming of his granddaughter cut off, his brother's screaming distant to his ears. He felt his heart and soul torn from each other, leaving him weightlessly for a moment, before he felt the warmth pass through his hand. His eyes snapped open, revealing the aged face of Stanford, his hand reached out to his translucent one. "STANLEY!"

He shut his eyes, voice coming out a sigh, echoing as the music he had heard before was. "_I'm sorry..._"

_End Chapter 35_

**_THIS IS PART TWO OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER YET, GO BACK AND DO SO NOW. _Ok, I stopped my lies, and finally had Gideon's birthday. Notes for this chapter is only one; Gideon stated he didn't trust Stan in Chapter 10 and now I've gone full circle with that, having Gideon state he does now trust him. Next chapter will have Stan finally discovering where Fiddleford has been, since he disappeared from the Mystery Shack.**


	37. Chapter 36

_Chapter 36_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

There was an ear-piercing scream from inside the Mystery Shack.

After the the bomb Gideon had dropped on them, Stan had felt his heart cease beating, beginning to realize the danger his grand-niece was in. He wasn't certain if she made a deal as he had for her body to be used or if the entry had been forceful. Either way, the notion made him nauseous. When the scream of agony echoed throughout the clearing they were, the origin from the Mystery Shack, he knew Gideon had told them far too late. He would recognize Mabel's scream anywhere and it seemed Dipper would to. The brunet had blanched at the agonizing noise, eyes widening, and scrambled up from the bench. "MABEL!"

"Dipper, wait!" Stan cried after him, as the 13-year-old rushed into the building. He released a curse, clambering up from his seat, beginning to go after him. He distantly heard Dick calling after him, yet he ignored it, aware he needed to halt Dipper's entrance. The back door slammed shut and he pushed himself to sprint faster. He came to abrupt halt, a few feet away from the door, and froze in place. Mabel had went in with Stanley. That would mean that his brother...He didn't even think about his grand-nephew, as he thrust open the door, legs pumping, as he sprinted to the staircase. He nearly hurtled over Dipper on the stairs, barely noticing he was there, crying out for his twin. "LEE!"

He could hardly breath, as he dashed down the hallway, and up the staircase leading to the attic. The door was closed, an echoing screech surrounding him. The room had lost it's saturation and he knew a dream demon, Jill Rephic to be more precise, was in there with his family. He jiggled the handle, finding it locked or perhaps simply stuck. He backed up a bit, before slamming his shoulder into it. The voice faded away, roaring of wind from inside. He slammed once more into it, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, until part of the door splintered open. Stan kicked down the rest of it, scrambling inside. He stared in awe, at the swirling rainbow hued colors surrounding the ghostly figures present in the room. They were like mini versions of the portal, when it was on, leaving him speechlessly at the sight. Mabel floated in the center of one of them, hair spread out, mouth open in a a painful sounding scream. Her eyes glowed a bluish hue, the ends of her becoming wispy. She disappeared into a rain of glittering ashes, leaving her unconsciousness and damaged body upon the floor. Stan's head slowly turned to the left, finding his brother there, his eyes squeezed shut, fists balled into his floating hair. Stan reached out for his twin, his hand passing through, frigid to the touch. His brother's eyes snapped open, staring into Stan's aged face, eyes beginning to glow. "STANLEY!"

He appeared nearly apologetic, eyes sliding shut, as he breathed out his echoing reply. "_I'm sorry..._"

A dusting of translucent ashes fell across his face, vanishing, as though it was part of the past. He fell to his knees, releasing a sigh. He heard a choking noise from behind, recognizing it to be Dipper's, and he reached out to the body of his twin, cradling him into his lap. He felt heavy across Stan's legs, but he couldn't find himself to feel the weight. He heard anxious blubbering from behind him. "G-Grunkle Stan...Mabel...s-she...G-Grandpa Stanley..."

The elder man ignored the stuttering mess, burying his face into his brother's chest. His mind was silenced, not a single thought passing through him. He was disconnected from emotions, that ones he would typically feel in such a moment. His emotions were reduced to nothing. Stan breathed in the scent of his brother, the coffee and pages of book, causing a semblance of emotion to return. It was dulled, yet he recognized it to be a sense of defeat. He felt a hand touch his back, Dipper's voice close to his ear, sounding frightened. "I-Is Mabel...Grandpa S-Stanley...are t-they...d-dead?"

His aged hands grasped the material of Stanley's sweater, frame trembling at the words spoken. Dead. Blood. Blood drenching the frame of his brother, haunting him. The monsters in his head, providing him with images he had nightmares about. Dead. Blood. DEAD. BLOOD. DEAD. _DEAD_. _BLOOD_. He released a grim wail, into the attic, the hand from behind jerking away from him. He screamed and screamed, until his throat was hoarse, and even then, he continued on with each emotion released. He realized moments later, the words he was screaming, yet he was unable to cease them. "DON'T LEAVE ME! GOD DAMMIT, GOD DAMMIT, GOD DAMMIT! DON'T LEAVE ME, _AGAIN_! GOD DAMMIT!"

He removed his face from his twin, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, as he shouted furiously at the ceiling. "WHERE ARE YOU?! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, CIPHER?! COME HERE, YOU DAMN DEMON! COME HERE _NOW_!"

Dipper staggered away from the sequence of howls and profanity his great-uncle released. Bill Cipher didn't appear though. The brunet wasn't surprised by that, aware that the dream demon never appeared when you wanted him to. He had always been as such and he would never change in that aspect. Dipper wish he would though, if only to end the screams. He was frightened by the pent up emotions Stan released and concerned about his sister. She laid on her side, across the room, as still as a corpse. Corpse. He didn't want to confirm the comparison, unable to predict his own reaction. Would he feel numb or would he completely lose it like Stan? He fould himself curled up into a ball and hiding into the corner of the room. He rocked himself, finding the motion to calm his nerves, and hummed to drown out the noise. He was startled, when a hand rested upon his shoulder, and jerked, glancing up to see Dick squatting next to him. "Dipper? Are you alright?"

His voice was raised above the background howling, eyebrows furrowing together. "M-Mabel...is s-she...de...de...?"

"What? No, no, see's fine. Your sister is unconscious...I'm not sure about Stanley, because your uncle won't let me near him. Are you alright though? Are you feeling anxious?" Dipper felt relief course through him, before he was reminded of the elder man cursing Bill's very existence. He bobbed his head up and down, his frame quivering. He buried his face into his knees, feeling the hand pat his shoulder. "Don't worry, the screaming will stop, alright?"

He glanced back up, observing the doctor leaving him, in favor of crossing the room to his grand-uncle. Dipper flinched, when Stan was backed handed across the face, a crisp smack echoed across the room, his howling immediately silenced. Stan's emotions were lost an instant later, the disconnection returning. The doctor was knelt in front of him, one of his bloodied hands, resting upon one Stanley's limp arms. They weren't bloodied though, Stan's vision haunted by hallucinations, the side effects Bill Cipher had left behind years ago. He ignored the blood soaked into every pore of the attic and his hand rose to his stinging cheek. He rubbed at it, Dick's hand squeezing his twin's wrist. "He's alive. Your brother is alive. I can feel his pulse. Do you understand, that he's alive?"

"...yeah..."

He frowned at Stan's impassive tone and whispered to him. "...Stanford, do you feel like you need a drink?"

"...I don't feel anything." He truthfully revealed.

"I believe you're in a type of emotional shock, Stan. Feeling a reduction of emotions occurs after traumatizing ev-"

"I know how shock works."

"...are you aware that you are scaring your nephew?" He blinked a couple of times, before his eyes roved around the room. Stan finally observed his grand-nephew, in the corner of the room. Dipper was curled into a ball and face buried into his knees. He was quivering, the speedy panting audible from across the room. Dipper's face lifted, revealing the frighted face. The younger Pines' eyes held a type of concern for Stan, his anxiety clearly evident. He had scared the 13-year-old, yet he felt numb about the entire situation, unable to care about anything in the world. He had died inside, his brother lost, as he had been for 37 years. Stan felt his arm grasped onto, he attention redirected to the doctor. "Stanford?"

"No...I didn't realize..." He mumbled, finding himself unable to care what he had done to anyone else. It was as though...he couldn't find the strength to realize the mistakes he had done. It was though...as though he had slipped back into the depressive state he had occupied before. He felt a tinge of emotion seep into him, remembering how dead he felt inside, before his suicide attempt. He jerked away from Stanley's body, scrambling across the wooden floor. Dick's hand slipped away, eyebrows furrowing at the actions the elder man performed. Stan ran into someone behind him, causing him to fall onto his back, the person behind him stumbling back a step or two. He glanced up from where he was laid out and found Gideon to be lingering by the doorway.

"This is all my fault." He whispered, the stutter vanished from his speech. He distantly scrutinized the prone form of Mabel, across the room, the ends of her hair pure white, while the rest was her normal brunette hue. It appeared as though someone had dipped the end of her hair in dye, now matching Gideon's own. His eyes unsettled Stan, as his emotions returned, finding his words to be mirrored to those he had spoken to himself years ago. Stan realized in that moment, that he needed to compose himself, for the sake of Dipper and Gideon. If he didn't, they would be fall apart.

He struggled to sit up, his aged body trembling from the adrenaline fading from his system. "Gideon, come here...you can't blame yourself for this."

Gideon's lip wobbled and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Kid?"

The freckled boy plopped down in front of Stan, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He reached out, rubbing the back of Gideon's neck, listening to the mumbling from his soft tone. "I..I-I s-should o-of t-told y-you...b-but...I-I w-was..."

"Scared?" Gideon bowed his head, releasing a hoarse sob. Stan grasped one of his pudgy hands with his free hand and nodded. "I know how you feel, kid. I've been scared about Bill Cipher coming back for me in the past...and, you were scared _she_ would hurt you, again, if you told someone...I wanna know though, did she hurt you anyways?"

The 11-year-old tugged one of his hands away, rubbing the crook of his neck, appearing distressed. Stan squeezed his other hand, beginning to feel nervous about his actions. He knew that Gideon had experienced a something, when Jill was inside Mabel. He leaned forward, tears rising in his eyes. His voice came out as a mumble, barely heard, but the moment Gideon finished, Stan felt unsettling. "She did _that_? She sat on you and...and she said those things?"

"I-I'm s-sorry!"

"No, Jesus, no, Gideon. Listen to me, ok? It's ok to be scared...I want you to promise me though, if anyone or anything does any stuff like that or just make you uncomfortable, you tell me, so I can stop it. Ok?" He questioned, distressed that Gideon didn't inform him of this, until he had pushed the freckled boy. Gideon bobbed his head up and down. "Good. Are you upset? Did I...scare you with my yelling?"

"...A-A l-little b-bit..."

"Sorry about that, kid...I was...worried about my brother..." Stan admitted reluctantly. He didn't want to share his emotions on the situation, but he thought it would be best to explain to Gideon, so he could understand and abate his fear. He had lost it for a moment there, though he intended on not doing it anymore to them. He had already done it too much this summer and needed to be available to the three, if they needed him.

"...o-oh...a-are...y-you o-ok?"

His question startled the elder man, since it was ordinarily one of the twins that wondered if he was alright or not. He wanted to be honest, yet revealing more than necessary could further concern the freckled boy. He had to think on the question, since his emotions were completely scrambled. For awhile there, he had felt nothing, before a roaring negative emotion had taken over his senses. Stan hadn't had that issue, until Bill Cipher was inside him, and at those moments he couldn't control the rage that ran through him. Stan didn't want to admit over the years, but he had come to realize that a dream demon possessing him, had mentally unbalanced him. He hadn't been the same since that week and wouldn't be until he died. He had adapted though and was better able to control it as the years had passed. The elder man wouldn't concern Gideon with these matters, so he instead expressed what he felt at that exact moment. "I'm scared for my brother."

"Oh..."

"He's strong though, so he'll be ok...are you alright for now, kid?"

"U-Uh-huh..."

"Well, I think I should go see how Dipper is doing right now...I scared him, too, and I think I need to apologize," He explained, patting Gideon's head, bringing himself to his feet. He observed his great-nephew in the corner and Dick whispering comforting phrases. Stan approached the pair and deposited himself next to Dipper. "I got this, Dick. Could you just check on Stanley and Mabel?"

Dick hummed in agreement, leaving them, and Stan turned to the brunet. The 13-year-old peeked up from his knees, staring into his eyes, before glancing away. Stan released a sigh, before reaching out, and picking up Dipper by his waist. The preteen unleashed a noise sounding to be a mix of protest and surprise at this action. He set Dipper into his lap and settled his jaw onto the top of his head. "G-Grunkle Stan?"

"Sorry about scaring you like that...is your anxiety bad right now?" He asked and grasped onto his grand-nephew's trembling hand. "You gonna have a panic attack or...?"

"Uh...n-no...I don't t-think s-so...are y-you ok?"

"Yeah, just scared for Stanley. I got a bit upset, when I thought about him being...well, you know," The elder Pines explained, rubbing his thumb in circles around Dipper's wrists, until the trembling had reduced to practically nothing. Dipper released a hum of content and Stan rolled his eyes at the sound. "Enjoy this while you can, kid, because I ain't letting you sit in my lap like this, again. You're too heavy to be on my legs for a long time."

"O-Ok...and I f-forgive you...Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"What're we going to do?"

He sighed, eyes shutting, as he thought about the translucent hand he had reached out for and the swirling colors surrounding his twin's soul, before he had lost him for the second time in his life. "I don't know, kiddo..."

_~!-?-!~_

"_The dreamscape..._" Dipper heard echoed throughout the room, causing him lurch awake from his light sleep. He breathed raggedly through his mouth, his great-uncle shifting next to him. His mind wandered to Dick being in the room, but remembered that the man had headed home, after the unconscious twins were clarified to be alright, and Stan had sent Wendy back to her house, lying about Stanley getting sick, so she wouldn't become involved with the fiasco. He curled up against the elder man's chest, feeling the weight of the arm laid across his stomach, sweat soaking him from the combined weight of Stan and the stifling outside air. He turned his head to the right, the familiar glowing gold hue floating beside the attic's window. Bill Cipher stared out into the front yard, the moon's light spilling into the room. "_Jill Rephic has broken yet another rule...it's forbidden to take the soul's of humans_ _there._"_  
_

"You took us there."

"_I took your minds there. Your soul and body remained in the physical realm, while your minds traveled to the scape._" He explained, continuing his vigilant gaze out through the triangle shaped window.

"Urrr...Dip...Dipper?" Grunkle Stan mumbled into his ear, the weight of his arm removed from the brunet's stomach. He rolled into the direction, where the dream demon floated, frowning at the source of the glowing hue, penetrating his fuzzy gaze. He recognized the hue, though couldn't quite place where he had seen it exactly. "Wha...What's that light?"

"It's Bill..."

Stan reached across Dipper, to Mabel's side dresser, grasping as the brunet shifted, allowing Stan's reach to lengthen, and access for his glasses. Stan shoved the pair on, sitting up in the bed the two occupied. He glanced over at the opposite bed, Gideon's light eyes blinking into the darkness, aimed at the dream demon. An extra bed, which was near the room's door, Mabel's and Stanley's bodies laid together. After scanning the other beds, he glanced back at the triangle. He frowned at him, feeling unnaturally calm at the sight of Bill. He supposed it was due to the suspicion that Bill could inform them how to rescue his family. "You know how to get them back, don't you, Cipher?"

Bill finally turned to the pair, his voice coming out as a hiss, that echoed throughout the room. "_Out in the woods, buried deep, lies what you seek, though it shall be quite weak. __Though the game seems to be over and won, it's not quite done.__ She seems to enjoy corrupting lives and now we'll have to see which Pines survives._"**  
**

"...Jesus, you're doing that, again? Those cryptic rhymes, instead of just telling us?" Stan groaned, rolling his eyes. Dipper had heard Bill cite rhymes about the future, though usually they were used in more of an mocking form, then the cryptic messages he was creating. "I don't know what the hell I expected."

"_I've told you before, Crescent, why I operate the way I do, but you aren't understanding the severity of the situation. You should be lucky I do reveal what I do, since alternative versions of me would simply mock you with what you already know, in the same exact rhymes. I have already done more than I should of in this dimension, in order to correct Jill's mistakes, and now it's up to my wheel to fix the rest. I won't appear, again, until you follow through on your end...if you don't act soon though, you will lose Sixer and Shooting Star..._" He trailed off, eye rolling up to the ceiling, as though he could view a sight none of them could. "_...I expect you three not to fail, considering the circumstances._"

Only when Bill disappeared in the flash of pure luminance, did Dipper realize that the saturation remained intact in the attic, during the entire conversation they had had with the dream demon.

_~!-?-!~_

"Kid, I'm thinking it's literally the woods he's referencing," Stan informed Dipper, tapping his pen on the notepad he held, with the rhyme scrawled across it, as they pondered over the meaning at the early hours of the morning. The brunet frowned at him, shaking his head at the answer. "We've been through this already; you're thinking about this too hard, kid."

"He says thing like that all the time though and doesn't always literally mean that. It could be a metaphor?" Dipper suggested, pointing at the writing. Gideon was settled in the seat across from them, head titling to the side, attempting to fight the sleep overtaking him. "And he keeps saying about something being buri..._oh_...Grunkle Stan, the bunker!"

Gideon jolted awake at the cry he heard from across the table, shaking the sleep clouding his mind. Stan smiled wearily at his grand-nephew, shaking his head at the obvious answer. He couldn't believe he didn't realize the meaning behind the line, despite the fact he had been inside the underground bunker more times than he could count. He hadn't been there in years though, finding the need to use it to be unreasonable, since the end of the world couldn't possibly happen in his lifetime. He scribbled down the name, nodding. "Ok, so we got that out of the way, now we need to know what he thinks we're 'seeking'."

"Is it a way to get to the dreamscape?"

"This is Cipher we're talking about here, Dipper. He wouldn't tell us that. He's leading us to something else we need, that might help us get there. Any ideas on what it could be, because I got none coming to mind?"

"Hmmm...maybe something connecting us to the dreamscape? Some sort of portal?"

"I've been in there plenty enough, to tell you that Stanley never made anything like that in the bunker...I would like to know exactly what we're searching for, but it's probably ok if we don't. The answer will probably be pretty obvious when we get there."

"The next part then...I guess he's giving us hope, that we still have time?"

"I don't think 'hope' is something Cipher can give us...'game' though...is this a game to him? To Rephic?"

"Um, I'm not really sure...Bill wasn't all serious when Mabel and I met him, but now he is and...w-well, he's acting kind of weird now..."

"Something is off...Dipper, I know you've put some trust into him, but he's a demon. I want you to be careful around him, ok? He's tricked plenty of folks through the years and he acted different around me, when I wanted help. He acts like a friend, but he ain't one, you hear me?"

"I...I don't know, Grunkle Stan...I'm starting to think that he really wants to stop Jill...she's done some bad things, from what I understand, and Bill keeps saying she'll keep doing stuff like that..." He replied, thinking back on the words and actions Bill Cipher had done, since about two months ago. He had started off as a malevolent and suspicious being, but had evolved into the benevolent demon he had grown to know today. Dipper had grown to trust him, finding that he truly wanted to save them from Jill.

Stan released a sigh. "Please, Dipper, just...you trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course." Dipper replied, without a second thought on the matter.

"Then trust me, when I say he will cause you pain, if he finds it to his benefit. I'm following the rhyme, because it so happens what benefits him, will benefit us. I want to watch your back though, ok?"

The 13-year-old bit his lip, before nodding. He trusted his great-uncle and knew his advice to be sound, but couldn't help wonder if that perhaps the elder man was wrong about the dream demon. He didn't argue further on the matter though, instead opting to continue deciphering the meaning behind the the mysterious words. The next phrase was self-explanatory in his eyes, but the final phrase sent is anxiety on edge. "What...W-What did he mean by 'which Pines survives'?"

"...Dipper, everything is going to be fine...he's said cryptic crap like that, since I've first met him. Most of them haven't occurred and I don't think there's much meaning behind him. I mean, he's already told me a couple of times, that my brother would die really young and guess how old he's made it? He's 30-years-old and he should of died long ago, if Bill wanted to be right. They're simply empty threats and won't come true."

It seemed as though on this one, he didn't need to question, because there were phrases the dream demon had told him, though had never come to pass. It fit with how Bill Cipher operated and he didn't need to experience angst over the last part. He knew none of the Pines would be lost this summer and that they would end up defeating the female dream demon, even if it would be difficult."Ok, well...are we going to the bunker...right now?"

"Yeah...I think Gideon should stay here though. He has already faced her enough and he wouldn't even be awake by the time we get back," He gestured to the freckled boy, slouched over the able, sleeping away, through the majority of their conversation. "And, I don't think we'll find anything too important, when we go in...Dipper, where did you say Shiftie-uh, I mean the shapeshifter was stuck in the bunker?"

"Wendy and I put it into that chamber thing and froze him."

"The stasis tube?"

"Uh, I think that's what it was."

"We won't have to deal with him then, so that's good. I want you to go change out of your pajamas and I'll go get the the journals." He instructed the brunet, watching as he rushed out from the room. Stan lifted himself from his seat, joints creaking in protest, before heading over to gather Gideon into his arms. He entered the living room, setting the freckled boy into the reclining chair, and pulled the lever. The seat reclined into laying position, Gideon grumbling in sleep, from the slight disruption to his sleep. Stan laid out a blanket, that had been draped over the head of the seat, wrapping it around Gideon, before exiting the room.

_~!-?-!~_

As the sun rose, the golden hues lengthening their shadows before them, the Pines staggered over the terrain of the forest. Dipper was clad in a forest green, skin fitted t-shirt, tan pants, and was missing his pine tree hat. Stan had thought it unusual that he would chose would he wore right now and be missing his beloved hat he had gotten from the gift shop. He hadn't commented on it, though the sight unsettled him. He was clad in a white button-up, not wanting to wear any other layers in the heat, his typical black slacks, and the fez atop his head. They trudged on, Dipper beside him, as they headed in deeper. He stared at the unruly hair in front of him, before removing his fez. He reached out and set it onto his grand-nephew's head. It slid down and he thought it would over Dipper's eyes, but his ears prevented this, only covering his forehead, nearly touching his eyebrows. Dipper halted movement in surprise, reaching up to touch the fez. "Wait, what?"

"You look weird without your hat, kiddo. If you actually brushed your hair, like me, it would be fine, but it looks a mess."

"Ugh, Grunkle Stan, seriously?" He complained, though he didn't attempt to remove the hat, continuing on into the forest. The elder man felt is lips tug into a smile, imagining himself from his own childhood, when his father had given the item to him. They had obtained it from a pawn shop, simply because he had thought it looked cool and his father thought it would be alright for him to have. It had barely fit on his head back then and now it seemed Dipper was the same. His smile dropped though, as they approached the tree they needed. "Wendy had to climb up the tree last time to reach the branch."

Stan rolled his eyes, before plucking up a stone from the ground. He tossed it up and down a couple of times in his hands, judging the weight. He aimed up at the branch, before throwing it. It smacked into the limb, causing it to jerk, the rock bouncing off and disappearing somewhere behind them. The tree before them rumbled, before sinking into the ground below. A series of wooden planks popped out, creating a spiraling staircase down into the abyss. There was an audible pop from down below and the door slid open. "Or, you four could of did that."

"Oh..." Dipper mumbled, as Stan began to descend down the stairs. The 13-year-old followed, a lantern held in his hands, and they headed down. They stepped through the entrance, the elder man kicking at a panel next to the door, near the floor. There was a series of clickings and whirlings, as the tree began to re-ascend to the surface, the button causing the tree to retract. They froze as they observed their surroundings, staring at the figure curled up in the bed. Stan gaped wordlessly at the individual, before he hoarsely forming the name he knew well. "Fiddleford?"

_End Chapter 36_

**Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all had a spooky day and enjoy this update. I also hope, you all aren't still agonizing over Weirdmageddon Part 1. I'm actually impressed with the quality of the episode they've already shown and I can tell you right now _my_ finale probably won't be as grand. I think you readers will like how it plays out my fic though, so be prepared within the next month or two for the end. Notes for this chapter include the following: I'm not sure if anyone would notice, but I took part of the rhyme from the new cipher in the credits, and warped it into my own form. When Bill references alternate universes, it's an allusion to how he knows that in the canon Gravity Falls he's hellbent on opening the rift. As always, I appreciate followers, favorites, and reviews!  
**


	38. Chapter 37

_Chapter 37_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

"Fiddleford?" The homeless man was curled up into a ball, with a threadbare blanket wrapped around his figure, only his face peering out. He grasped the material of the blanket tightly and his eyes widened at the sight of the Pines. Stan realized with a jolt, that behind the glasses, his eyes were welling with tears. He buried his face back into the blanket, sniffling aloud. After feeling as though his feet had been glued to the floor, Stan found himself striding across the length of the room, and to his best friend. His joints creaked in protest, as he settled himself beside the elder man. He tentatively licked his lips, before reaching out, hands shaking, to the blanketed figure. "Fid-"

Fiddleford tensed at the hands nearing him, shoving the other away. Stan's body scarcely moved a inch, the weakness of the ex-curator's limbs barely affecting him. "D-Don't!"

"Hey, hey, I ain't gonna hurt yo-" Stan raised his hands, meaning to exhibit he wasn't planning on touching him, but Fiddleford flinched violently, as though he thought he was about to be struck.

"I-I DON'T KNOW W-WHO YOU ARE!" The homeless man cried out, eyes squeezed shut. The elder Pines began to realize, that Fiddleford was unstable, incoherent, compared to how he was when he came to the Mystery Shack. He released a choked noise, tears leaking from his eyes. He muttered, barely aloud to himself, causing Stan to feel concerned."S-Stanley...S-Stanford...I-I don't know...just...I..."

"...Hey, hey, it's ok...you do know me...I...us...Stanley is my brother...I'm Stanford..."

Fiddleford's eyes snapped open, breathing raggedly. "...Stan...ford?"

"Yeah, I'm Stanford...Stan, you know, the much more handsome version of my twin brother?"

"...handsomer..."

"What?"

"That's...n-not proper English...you don't need to say 'more'...y-you..." He trailed of, burying his face into his knees.

"Jesus, you sound just like when you were young-"

"I've...I've wronged you..."

"Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about?"

Fiddleford's arms wrapped tightly around his knees, voice muffled, yet clearly haunted. "I r-remember...what I d-did to you..."

_~1972, The end of January~_

"Hey, Fiddles?" Stanley Pines peered into the curator's office, having lurked through the museum's hallways near closing time, avoiding eye contact with the security guard as he had bypassed him. He hadn't been able to go near police officers or security guards, without growing afraid, ever since he had returned from Colombian prison, though he would attempt to remain emotionless on the outside. In the darkened hallways though, the guard watching from a distance, had nodded at him, recognizing him to be a friend of one of the employees. He hadn't halted though, hastily continuing pass him, eyes downcast. Most of his fear had faded, by the time he had peeked his head in Fiddleford's office though. "Fiddleford?"

The man wasn't in his office, as he usually was around eight at night, though the light was on. He had to be nearby that meant, perhaps in one of the back rooms, reading through files. Stan frowned, beginning to back out, only to stumble into someone behind him. He nearly toppled over the figure, as the other scrambled to pick paperwork scattered across the floor. He bent over, on his knees, assisting in the retrieval of paperwork with his unbroken arm. "Sorry about that, Fid-"

He paused, as he realized the individual wasn't his best friend. His platinum blond hair was sprucely parted to the side, his prominent chin, and deep green eyes presented a handsome face to Stan. His waist-high dark slacks, were belted up, over a windsor tan button-up, his lab coat over top. He appeared to be at least in his early adult years, younger than Stan's 27-years-of-age. He frowned deeply at Stan's face, then at his cast, causing the other begin to feel uncomfortable. He hated when people stared at him, the prisoners would always stare, when the guards would beat him in the courtyard. "What are you doing in here? Who are you and how did you get past the guard?"

"Uh...Uh..." He stuttered out awkwardly, the authoritative voice causing him to tense.

"Ivan, what was all that nois-?" Fiddleford came around the corner, files underneath his arms, appearing surprised at the pair on the ground. "Stan? What are you doing here right now?"

"I...uh, I-I should go..." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"No, no, you can stay. I was simply surprised. You usually are accompanied by your brother nowadays and don't really come around at night. Was there something you wanted? I told you both I would come by in the morning."

"Excuse, Mr. McGucket, who exactly is this?" The younger man questioned, the files now gathered into his arms, eyes narrowing at Stan.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ivan. This is my dear friend, Stanford Pines. Stan, this is Ivan. He's my new assistant."

"Pines? He's the brother of Stanley, correct? You've spoken of them much."

"Oh, yes he is."

"I apologize if I was offensive, Mr. Pines, I simply didn't expect to run into someone I didn't know around this time of night." Ivan explained, reaching out to assist Stan in standing. When he tensed further, Ivan's hand froze, before retracting.

He scrambled to his feet, attempting to remain calm, despite the urge to fly into a rage. He would be skittish and awkward around others, until they attempted to touch him. If they did, he would typically flip to the other end of the spectrum of emotion, the urge to beat the shit out of those he thought meant him harm high. Stan licked his lips, the feeling fading, testing his hands at small talk. "No, uh, it's ok...uh, Ivan...uh, what's your last name?"

Ivan bit his lip, hands tightening over his paperwork. "Oh...My name is, uh...Ivan Northwest."

"...Fiddles...could I, uh, speak to you?" He grasped onto the the arm of the curator, nails digging into the lab coat the other wore. Fiddleford frowned at him, glancing down at the hand digging into his hand, beginning to open his mouth. "Now...uh, please..."

His mouth closed, nodding, as he realized Stan was perhaps on the edge of having an episode. He would break down completely, sobbing, and raging away in Spanish. He had only been present once for this (though Stanley had told him it usually occurs when he wakes up from a nightmare), but he had thought they had been reduced to nearly nothing now. "Ivan, could you perhaps make the three of us coffee?"

"Of course, how would you like your's?"

"The usual. Stan will take the same."

"Alright, well, I'll be back momentarily." Ivan readjusted his grip on the documents, eyes staring intently into Stan's. The brunet glanced away, gulping thickly, before the assistant began to leave. He only spoke, when he was positive that the blond was far enough away to not overhear their conversation, though he decided to keep his voice low.

"...What the _hell_, Fiddles?" He hissed.

The curator raised an eyebrow. "I should be saying that to you, Stan. Would you mind retracing your nails?"

Though his grip lessened, he continued to dig his nails into the arm. He had been feeling restless for most of night, though he couldn't go to his brother, as he had gone to work in the basement with Bill Cipher. He didn't want to be around his brother, when he was being friends with the dream demon, constantly wary of the triangle's behavior. He decided heading to the museum, for Fiddleford, would calm his nerves. Ivan Northwest had ruined that though, nearly sending him into a fit of rage. "Why did you hire a_ Northwest_ to be your assistant? You know they're all assholes and will stop at nothing to get what they want."

"Stan, he's not like his family."

"Did you hear me? Assholes. Assholessss."

"Yes, I hear you! The reason I hired him though, is because he came to me about my advertisement I put in the newspaper, interested in the position. He had excellent grades in the fields I needed, when he was attending this boarding school in France. I was impressed and hired him from those results. He isn't like the rest of his family though, in fact, he was meant to be the heir of the Northwest estate, but decided he didn't want to. His brother, Preston, is now going to the head of the estate, when he reaches the age of eighteen. Ivan doesn't approve of his family's business though."

"God dammit, you sound like Stanley, when he talks about Cipher!" He hissed, sweat beginning to form on his temple, hands clenching tighter.

His best friend sighed. "Stanford, you know that's not quite the same. I understand your qualms with Bill and I have the same ones. I honestly don't trust a demon being around Stanley so often, however he seems to be fine, so I don't foresee any immediate harm for the time being. Ivan isn't a demon though and having him work for me isn't going to kill me."

"F-Fiddleford, I really don't like th-" He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stan, are you alright?"

He released a choked laugh, shaking his head. "I-I...don't...why would y-you think I'm n-not ok...?"

"Stan, you look like you're about to have another one of your episodes. Is this about when you were in pris-?"

He didn't want to hear the word, if he did he would completely go over the edge. His other hand grasped on the curator's shoulder, shaking him violently, to the point where Fiddleford would have lost his balance, if it wasn't for Stan's hands keeping him standing. "¡Cállate!"

"S-Stanford!" Stan immediately released him, causing the curator to stagger back, into the hallway's wall. He steadied himself, before glaring at his obviously regretful friend. "What in the name of God's green earth is wrong with you?!"

"I-I'm sorry, F-Fidd-" He cut himself off, the the voices of his abusers overwhelming him. He wasn't quite aware of how it occurred, but he was suddenly on the floor, head in his unbroken hand, sobbing feebly. He felt as though he was choking on his own breath, each sob suffocating him. The only times this had happened, was when he had woken from a particularly bad nightmare, though this reaction had never been triggered from simply hearing the beginnings of the word he dreaded. He felt a hand grasp his forearm and he jerked away. The guards used to grab him there, when they would drag him from his cell, in the dead of the night, to let the prisoners mess with him. "¡NO PARES!"

"Stanford, snap out of it!" Fiddleford shouted at him, grasping onto his shoulder, shaking him. He blinked at his friend, realizing he wasn't where he believed he had been.

"...I-I need..." He panted, feeling overwhelmed by his emotions. "C-Carla...I..."

"You know she's still visiting her family."

"I-It's been t-two weeks though and...and she h-hasn't even called me b-back..."

"I know, she hasn't seen them for years tho-"

"I KNOW THAT, BUT I HAVEN'T SEEN HER IN WHAT FEELS LIKE A THOUSAND YEARS!" He exploded, before grasping his hair.

"...Stan, I know that last time your brother made this suggestion, you reacted explosively, but...I _really_ do believe you need to see a psychologist."

He glanced up with teary eyes. "...I-I think I do, t-too..."

"Um, I-I got the coffee..." The pair were startled to reveal Ivan awkwardly standing a few feet away, holding steaming cups. His eyes shifted between the both of them, licking his lips. "Do...Do you need help with anything?"

Stan lurched up from the floor, waving his cast towards the 18-year-old, snarling. "Fuck off!"

Ivan appeared startled by his aggressive behavior, nearly dropping the mugs. Fiddleford immediately stepping in-between them, causing Stan to cease the cast waving, and his best friend hissed back into his face. "If you don't get yourself under control, I'm going to have to send you out."

"Don't bother, because I'm already leaving, you damn hick." He snarled back, feeling as though Fiddleford trusted the assistant more than him now. He stormed out of the museum, tears leaking down his face. When he had arrived home, he wrapped a pillow around his head, attempting to block out the Spanish words he could hear, echoing throughout his mind. If he hadn't been distracted by that, he would of heard the insane laughter of Bill Cipher, echoing throughout the building.

_~1975, July 5th~  
_

Stan groaned aloud, his body aching from head to toe. He gulped thickly, opening his eyes, revealing the blinking emergency light. He squinted his eyes, finding the glow painful to his retinas. He wasn't sure why the emergency lights to the portal were on. They had only been on once, as a test. Was this a test? Did he fall asl-There was rubble beside his arm, he realized, twisting his neck to squint at what he was clutching. He released his hold, his hand trembling, stomach feeling completely empty. Jesus, he hadn't felt this hungry in his entire life. It was as though he was completely hollow on the inside, a gaping mass of nothing where his stomach was meant to be. He couldn't cease his shaking, his bloodsugar unbelievably low. He frowned, rolling over as he attempted to remember why he had more pressing matters than hunger. Stan gasped aloud, suddenly realizing what had occurred. "Stanley!"

When he struggled to sit up, observing the deaden portal, he nearly collapsed back down. The portal had been blown to pieces, his body traumatized by Bill, and Fiddleford had been inju-"Fiddleford!"

He attempted to stand, but the world spun dangerously around him. The brunet was on his hands and knees, momentarily losing consciousness. The brunet's eyes roved around the destroyed room for his best friend. A gasp escaped his mouth, as he spotted the curator, curled up in a ball. He was leaning up against the door of the portal's room, rocking back and forth. No tears were leaking from his eyes, yet they were red rimmed and bloodshot. Stan wasn't aware of how long he had been unconscious, but he knew it must of been awhile, judging from the haunted eyes Fiddleford had. He crawled, ignoring how his hands scraped painfully across the rumble. He witnessed black spots dancing in front of his eyes and he shook them away. "F-Fiddles?"

"You killed him." He froze at the words, inches in front of the rocking curator.

"Wha...n-no...it was Cipher...he t-tricked me an-"

"You made a deal with him."

"Well, y-yeah, but I-"

"Then, you're responsible for his death," He felt panic beginning to overwhelm. He was a murderer. He killed his brother. His brother was lost forever. Stan's nails dug into the rumble beneath his hands, mouth silently moving, as he attempted to form words. Then, Fiddleford stated what he feared most, Stan couldn't breathe. "You're a murderer."

Stanford Pines realized his friendship with Fiddleford McGucket would never be the same.

_~1975, The End of July~_

After three weeks, he had finished off the stash of food his brother had kept in the Shack. When he realized he hadn't ate for two days, Stan decided to go into town for grocery shopping. He didn't know why he bothered to continue to let himself live, though he supposed it was in hope, that he could perhaps be able to live long enough to ever see his nephew, again. And, perhaps, he hoped Susan would answer back to the messages he had left the first week after the portal incident. As he tugged on a pair of rugged jeans, over his boxers, he ran a hand through his greasy hair. He hadn't showered since before Bill Cipher had used his body, so he supposed he smelt rank after nearly a month. He couldn't bothered to care though. He tugged on a maroon zip-up jacket, to cover his filthily shirt. He counted the money in his wallet, before heading out of the house. The 30-year-old squinted into the darkness, grumbling about the heat. Stan approached the Stanley Mobile, before abruptly bursting into a mess of tears. He stood there, tears leaking into his beard, screaming into the air. The episode he experienced ceased within seconds and he unlocked the door of the car. He settled himself into the driver's seat, before driving into town, tears drying on his face.

When he entered the "Dusk 2 Dawn" convenience store, he headed to the back of the store, plucking up the first sliced bread he noticed, then headed down to the junk food aisle. He plucked up the entire box of Twinkies, before making his way to the coolers. He swung open the freezer door, cool air licking his exposed skin, as he chose a case of beer. He had plenty of those at home, yet he had been chugging them until he would lose consciousness, so he wanted to be prepared if he had been close to running out. He headed to the front, dropping his groceries onto the counter. "H-Hello, h-how are you tonight, sir?"

Stan froze at the voice, hand hovering above his back pocket, reaching for his wallet. He gazed up, finding himself face-to-face with Fiddleford McGucket. His hair was a mess, glasses crooked, and he had a bruise formed over his left cheek bone. "F-Fiddleford?"

The curator frowned, eyes squinting at Stan. "Ah, y-yes, that what my n-name tag says..."

"What...what are you doing here?" He asked, completely stunned.

"Um...w-working...?"

"Yeah, but why here?"

"Um, because I-I need money..."

He glared at Fiddleford. "What are you playing at? You don't answer the phone when I try to call you and then you go and disappear on Susan for almost a month! And then she stopped answering my calls!"

The curator's bottom lip wobbled. "H-How do you k-know a-about my ex-wife?"

"What the hell do you mean...ex-wife?"

"We...divorce three days...a-ago..."

"W-What? What about Tate?"

"How d-do you know about m-my son?"

Stan felt a cold sweat form across his body. "I've known...the three of you, for seven years."

"...I...don't k-know you t-though?"

He nearly collapsed in front of the counter at these words. "...What?"

"I...haven't m-met you before?"

"I-It's me, Stanley!"

Fiddleford frowned at him, appearing apprehensive. "I...thought they took c-care of you...y-you're not supposed to remember w-who you are..."

"What are you talking about? And, why you acting like you've only heard of me?"

"We...I wrote d-down your name, s-so...we know that we needed to take care of y-you...I needed to w-write it down, so I could wipe m-myself clean..."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

He gulped, glancing around the empty store, leaning across the counter to him. "L-Let's talk outside..."

"I hope you're planning on explaining all of this shit, because I have no clue what you're talking about."

"I-I...y-yes...just, go to the back door, and we can talk outside...I n-need to make a p-phone call first, so, uh...s-someone can watch my s-shift..."

"Just hurry up though, because I'm gonna be honest, you're weirding me out," He strolled through the first aisle, to the exit door. He glanced up at wall clock, reading the time to be 11:45 PM, the store closing in 15 minutes. He stepped outside, a street light illuminating the back lot, forest spread out beyond that. A minute or two later, Fiddleford joined him, appearing jittery. He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong now?"

"N-Nothing, just...how much have y-you seen? I read the l-letter I wrote myself and...it j-just said y-you've seen a lot..."

"God even knows...I mean, the shit I had to put up with, because of Le..." Stan trailed off, eyes full of tears, unable to finish off the name. He was startled, upon feeling a presence behind him. He whirled around, revealing a group of hooded figures, emerging from the underbrush behind. He immediately thought they were as fishy as hell, as though they were a type of group involved with witchcraft. He had seen a ton of strange sights in Gravity Falls, but this scared him more than any supernatural creature he had encountered. He backed away, partially covering his best friend. "What the hell do you guys want?"

They seemed to be murmuring a chant in unison, causing him to begin to feel terrified of what they could do. "Get the fuck away from us!"

"I'm sorry, S-Stan, but you n-need help...t-that's what I-I had written the letter...b-before I erased you and your b-brother from my mind." Fiddleford muttered behind him, before stepping around him, and joining the hooded figures surrounding him.

The hooded figures surrounded the ex-curator, one of them donning him in a maroon cloak. A memory gun was handed to him, from one of the figures to his left, and he immediately recognized it from a design his brother had drawn. Fiddleford and Stanley had never gotten around to a prototype, bu the idea behind the gun, was to erase memories of the supernatural that haunted people. They had agreed the idea was a risk though, messing with another's mind could destroy anyone, and scraped it. Or, at least the Pines brothers had though, yet it seemed as though Fiddleford kept the design. Stan glared at the group before him, realizing this group wasn't a normal type. "W-What is this?"

"The Society of the Blind Eye...we'll make all your bad memories of the supernatural go away...including those of your brother." Fiddleford explained, beaming at what he had created, revealing a missing tooth.

"Is this part of that memory wipe experiment you and Stanley were working on? Are you gonna mess up my head, just like your's?" He bellowed, spit flying from his lips.

"No, no, nothing like that!" He attempted to further explain, appearing distressed at such a notion. "I simply heal your broken mind!"

"You're a goddamned liar!" Fiddleford frowned as he was continued to be yelled at, obviously not receiving the reaction he expected. Stan felt his throat close up, silenced, as Fiddleford punching in the word "**Brother**" into the gun. He aimed the weapon at the brunet, face full of pity for Stan.

Apprehension danced across his face, before shaking his head, hissing at him, and pointing a finger at the memory gun. "I swear to God, if you shoot me with that thing, I'll ki-"

"Don't worry, everything will be fine, my friend!" Fiddleford's lips stretched into a smile, waving it around as tears rolled down his face. He frowned, touching his tear stricken face in confusion. "Huh? W-Why am I c-crying?"

"Or, for Pete's sake, Fiddleford! This is taking far too long, and if you can't do it yourself, then I will!" A voice to his left cried out, sliding off his own hood. Stan gaped at the revealed Ivan Northwest, who had gone missing after the portal incident. His tattooed head, and sunken facial features, aged him, appearing older than his 21-years-of-age. He rolled his eyes at the brunet. "Oh, don't look so shocked, Stanford! What else did you expect from a...now, who was I again? Hm... Oh, I'm a Northwest! What else did you expect from a Northwest!?"

"You bastard, this is your fault!"

"No, I wasn't the one to start this; Fiddleford was. He simply decided to introduce me to what...the other Pines brother was too foolish to accept! This is the perfect solution to the terror that has been spread throughout this town for decades! We've even made it so that there is only one Pines to the citizens! The unnatural rumors surrounding his death are gone for good! You should be thankful for what we're about to do, because all of your pain is going to vanish from your mind! You'll simply _be_ Stanford Pines, never to be burdened by your brother's presence ever again!"

He felt the hooded figures grasp his frame, as he struggled to comprehend the situation he was in. They erased the entire town's memories of his twin, Stanley Pines, leaving him to be an only child in the mind's of others. The mailman that would always complain about Stanley's experiments producing bright flashes of light into town, would no longer recall such details. Ma and Pa of the "Dusk 2 Dawn" convenience store, wouldn't compliment how well he had been at fixing appliances in their store. Susan would never question Stanley, about when he would get a wife and embarrass him, but telling him all his good qualities. Tate would never laugh with "Uncle Stan", about how nerdy "Uncle Lee" was. The memory gun was pressed to his forehead, tears leaking from his eyes. He would never remember the love he held for his brother and how much he had sacrificed for him. "NO!"

Stan elbowed one of the figures on the stomach, causing them to release their hold. He thrust his head backwards, into the face of another, and ducked as the gun went off. The beam blasted into a dumpster, reflected off, and hit Ivan directly in the face. He tumbled backwards, the memory of Preston Northwest fading from his mind. The gun lay across the ground, cracked from the impact, the words "**Brother**" blinking at those to view it. The last image of his younger brother to flutter through his mind, was of him erasing his mind, leaving him to believe he was on only child. He laid, spread-eagle across the floor, as Stan socked someone in the face, causing their hood to fall off. He was shocked to be faced with the young Sprott Jones, local farmer on the opposite end of town. "Jones?! What the hell?! This is a cult, isn't it!?"

"S-Stan, now, this isn't quite what y-" Fiddleford was beside him, the other hooded figures lined up behind him. He staggered away, tripping over the cracked memory gun Ivan had had. The ex-curator reached out to help him up from the lot, but he thrust the memory gun into his face. Fiddleford froze, hands in a placating gesture. "N-Now, Stan, you don't want to do anything hasty!"

He punched in the date "July 31st, 1975", tears streaming down his face. "I-I have to do this...I-I have to..._H-He_ might be a-alive..."

Fiddleford's eyes widened, trembling as he opened his mouth. He released the trigger, before he could speak, the beam blasting his ex-best friend in the forehead. Stan was blinded though, when the broken memory gun imploded, leaving his hands in a semi-burnt state. He howled, as the the rest of the hooded figures were caught in the blast, their minds being wiped as well. Stan would of counted himself lucky, that he had been on the opposite end, or he would of forgotten what had occurred today. He was in an extreme amount of pain though, on par with the phantom pain he used to have in his leg from the motorcycle accident. He squeezed his hands shut, his mouth twisting into a scowl, as he attempted to block the pain. He needed to finish what he started. He needed to erase who he was from the other members of town, so they wouldn't let his name slip, causing the Society to remember that Stanford Pines needed to be taken care of. "Ughhh...my h-hands..."

He staggered over to the collapsed figures, reaching underneath one of their cloaks, for their memory gun. He didn't dare reveal any other faces, afraid of who he would view next. He didn't need to know all the people he trusted in Gravity Falls, were secretly out to get him. Stan realized he needed a way to be able to broadcast this further out, so that everyone could have their minds wiped. He couldn't do it by hand in one night. His brother had a type of radar, that could echo waves throughout the entire town if he desired. He had originally sent it up, for broadcasting emergencies to the town people, in case of the end of the world. Stan never did understand that obsession exactly, but he surmised it stemmed from Bill Cipher.

His hands felt numb, possibly his body in a type of shock. Stan entered his brother's vehicle, starting the ignition. He swerved back and forth across the road, hands trembling violently, though he couldn't feel them. He glanced down at the memory gun, in the passenger seat, the street lights reflecting light off of it. He could vaguely notice the radio was on, playing Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir", though he couldn't recall ever turning it on. When he arrived back home, he glanced down at the clock, the time being 12:15 AM. Half an hour. The entire events had been only half an hour, yet he felt as though a lifetime had passed. Stan was out of it completely, finding himself on the staircase leading to the basement suddenly, heading down to erase who he was.

When he would wake, he would return to the "Dusk 2 Dawn" convenience store, re-introducing himself as Stanley Pines to Pa and Ma Duskerton, a new citizen of Gravity Falls. He hadn't been aware until months later, when his sister-in-law came to the Shack, that she had been away, visiting her own family. She had been the only one in town, to know the truth. The Society never came after him again, though he would spot them, sometimes late at night, years later. He would observe the maroon color, lurking out of the corner of his eyes, overtime, finding it to be a comforting and familiar sight. He would ignore the local crazy in the town's dump though, afraid of becoming friends with that stranger. After all, how could one forget that not everyone can be trusted?

_Chapter 37 End_

**Spanish Translations:**

**¡Cállate!=Shut up!**

**¡NO PARES!=NO, STOP!  
**

**Whoops, it's been two and half weeks since I last updated (I'm sorry, but I've been super busy with college and work!). Aside from that though, I've been planning to another flashback chapter, for quite awhile. That lends me to a question for you readers; how would you feel about a Mystery Trio fanfic? It would be a type of prelude to this story, so Grunkle Stan would be Stanford and Grunkle Ford would be Stanley in that (just like in this story). I don't know if I would actually go through with it, but I thought someone might be interested. Anyways, notes for this chapter is just an explanation, in case anyone was confused. In my story, Fiddleford and Stanley came up with the mind erasing device. They deemed it a dangerous tool, scraping it, but Fiddleford decided he needed to go through with it. He suggested the idea to Ivan, who had already experienced a few supernatural events, agreeing it would be excellent idea. They created the Society of the Blind Eye together, before completely delving into it, after Stanley disappeared through the portal. Things had gotten out of hand though, Ivan beginning to overtake the group. Fiddleford wrote a letter to himself, describing what he believed needed to known later, before erasing his own mind, about the Pines brothers. As always, reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!  
**


	39. Chapter 38

_Chapter 38_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

"...Hey, it's...alright, Fiddles. I mean, I...I sorta did things too, you know?" Stan gulped down the rush of emotion, from the reminder of how their friendship had ended, all those years ago. He had regrets in his life, though this had been the largest one in his life, including creating a deal with Bill Cipher. He shrugged his shoulders, crossing his legs. "I mean, it was my fault that you...decided to do all that shit. I...if I was in the same situation as you, I would probably try to help you forget what happened, too."

"...I-I tried to...make y-you forget your brother t-though..." Fiddleford lifted his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, and into his beard. "I-I tried to m-make you like _me_."

Stan scratched his chin at the words. "Ok, look, I know you're feeling guilty and all, but I was able to get you guys off my back...I...uh, I had my hand in some memory erasing as well, with kinda the whole town."

"W-What?" Dipper interrupted the surprised ex-curator, appearing distressed by the words his great-uncle had spoke. "Y-You erased the t-town's memories?"

"Uh, kid, I know that sounds sorta bad, but, uh, I only made them forget about me. They...the reason everyone in town calls me 'Stanley' is that nobody remembered my brother, so I decided I needed a clean start...when the time to pick a name came, I picked my brother's..."

Dipper's eyes widened at the confession, the conversation they had had awhile back returning to his mind.  
"_Yes, I'm Stanford Pines. A lot of folks in this town think my full name is Stanley though._"  
"_...Why?_"  
"_Kid, sometimes folks want to see the best in others._"

"Oh...G-Grunkle Stan...you...you _are _the best though."

The elder man blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"You told me, that sometimes people want to see the best in others, when Dr. Thompson told me your name was Stanley, but...you're the best of them all..." He trailed off, beginning to blush, as Stan gaped wordlessly at him.

"Uh...gee...t-thanks..." He mumbled to his grand-nephew. "That actually means...a lot."

Dipper nodded his head, ripping the fez off, and covering his face. "Y-You're welcome..."

The Pines were surprised, when they heard a sob, emerging from Fiddleford's mouth. He wiped at the tears streaming down his face, releasing a string of sniffles. "T-That was...beautiful!"

Stan rolled his eyes, as Dipper pulled the fez from his face, his blush receding. "Jesus, is it me, or did you get sappier over the years? You used to cry over those stupid commercials with the dogs at the pound!"

"S-Says the m-moron that cried during the l-last episode of S-Star Trek."

Now it was Stan's turn to blush as deeply as Dipper had been moments ago. "That wasn't me! That was Stanley!"

The ex-curator wiped the remainder of his tears away, releasing a dry laugh. "And, I-I wasn't the one to cry about the dogs; t-that was y-you!"

The youngest Pines released a bark of laughter, as Fiddleford joined in, hiccuping from the crying he had done. Stan's face become darker, the shade of the fez Dipper held, as they laughed at his sensitivity. He pushed himself to his feet, stomping away, towards his great-nephew. He snatched the fez from him, as he bent over with laughter. "Yeah, laugh it up you two. Just because I'm a _real_ man for crying about the important stuff, you guys make fun of me."

"You-You-!" Fiddleford snorted, as he uncurled himself, grasping at his stomach. Dipper nearly kneeled over, registering the words, as Stan shoved the fez back onto his head. "Y-You just jested at me about being s-sensitive a-and you turn a-around and s-state that you're m-manly for it!"

"Whatever! I don't know about you two, but I'm heading home now," He grumbled, kicking the button to cause the staircase back up to the surface. He was startled though, as Fiddleford's laughter cut off, and he felt someone slam into his back from behind. "W-What the hell?!"

"P-Please, I'm s-sorry! Don't l-leave me!" He twisted his head, catching a glimpse of Fiddleford, arm's wrapped around his chest, half of his face peering out from his back. He appeared frightened at the notion of Stan leaving him, alone, below the forest. He briefly noticed Dipper appear by his side, though he didn't seem to want to assist him in the situation. Not that he wanted him to.

"Kid, go back to the surface. I'll be up in a second."

Dipper bit his lip. "Ok..."

He disappeared up the winding staircase, as Stan twisted his body around. He found the face of the ex-curator buried in his chest, feeling the dampness seeping into his button-up, cringed at how wrong it felt to his skin underneath. Stan rested his hands atop the trembling shoulders, as the hands clung to his back. "Hey, I ain't leaving? I'm not mad or anything; we were all just playing around. I know, I can be a sap, too. Yeah, I did cry during the Star Trek final, though Stanley did first. I'm not gonna leave you behind for saying that though, ok? You understand that, Fiddles?"

Fiddleford lifted his head and Stan barely even reacted to the blood drenched across his face, seeping into his button-up, instead of the tears he had thought were being shed. He had become desensitized to the sight, his mind constantly battling against the blood and reality. He was sure he would of completely broke, as he had when he was young, if the squirming triangles returned. The blood wasn't as bad though. "I-I don't understand h-how y-you can forgive m-me."

He sighed. "Fiddleford, you're my best friend. I know why you were how you were then and I think you eating out of trash cans for like three decades is enough to make up anything bad you did. Now, can you let go? You're sorta getting me all wet from your...tears."

His best friend automatically released him, stumbling back a few steps, beginning to fidget. Stan raised an eyebrow at him, before the sound of a growling stomach filled the awkward silence. He shook his head, reminiscing on their last encounter. "You're hungry, again, aren't you?"

Fiddleford hesitated, before nodding sheepishly. "I haven't ate since last time I saw you."

"Figures. Let's go back to the Shack." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the open door behind him.

He frowned. "What? Why are we going t-there?"

"Why do you think? You're going to live with me, until you get better."

Fiddleford waved his hands, appearing distressed at this. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly d-"

"God damn, Fiddleford! I spent the better part of 30 years, watching you eat out of trashcans and be made fun of by the town. Just let me do this for you!" He felt his hands trembling, becoming annoyed by the behavior. When his friend wrapped his arms around his own body, hunched over, as he stared at the ground, he realized he might have frightened him. He sighed, realizing that he let his emotions get the better of him, as he usually did. "Shit, I...I didn't mean to yell...I'm sorry...just..."

The ex-curator's head snapped up, eyes wide behind his glasses. "You...j-just apologized?"

"Uh...yeah?"

"I've never heard y-you...apologize before."

"What? Ok, so you're saying that during the seven years that we saw each other everyday, you never heard me ever say that?"

"N-No..."

Stan blinked a couple of times, squinting his eyes as he thought back onto any occurrences. If he had recalled correctly, he remembered he could be a downright dick to people. He had spent at least the first few months of knowing Fiddleford, giving him death threats, though he never apologized for that. In fact, he realized he had always had a difficult time apologizing to anyone. The last time he had apologized was...to Alex, for his mother dying. He couldn't recall a time before that, though he supposed it had been awhile. It suddenly occurred to him, it had become easier to apologize, thanks to Dipper and Mabel. He had seen how much of a jerk he could be and now knew when he had to. "Well, I guess you haven't."

_~!20-8-5/14-9-7-20-8-13-1-18-5/18-5-1-12-13!~_

After Stan and Dipper assisted Fiddleford back to the Shack, Stan had whisked him away to the bathroom, leaving behind Dipper in the kitchen. He stared into the empty room, feeling as though he was missing a part of himself. He felt another presence though, welling up inside, a type of negative one. Most of Jason had been dormant, though at times when Dipper would release a sassy phrase when felt upset, he could feel Jason seeping into him. He felt a saddening emotion overwhelm him though and he sighed. "Yeah, I miss her, too..."

He had been attempting to distract himself from Mabel being missing, but now that he had solved the riddle Bill had given him, he had no more distractions. He leaned against the kitchen counter, reaching out for the unopened pile of mail, that had been there since the morning of Gideon's birthday. He flipped through them, hoping to find a magazine, though froze when he spotted his name. Two names actually. Him and his sister. His heart jumped when he read the sender's name. "**Pacifica Northwest, Roseraie Private Institution, Paris, France**."

Dipper ripped open the letter, discovering the distraction he needed. The date read from over a week ago and he found the beginnings of a smile spread across his young face. "**Dear Mabel and Dipper, I know I haven't been away long, but I needed your advice on something. Perhaps I should explain though. The school term has yet to start, though it will in August. The last time I went to France, I was four, so I don't remember a lot about it. Honestly, France is pretty amazing and I'm sure you two are jealous of how I can go to other countries. That was meant to be a joke, though knowing you two, it went over your heads. Anyways, I was roomed up with this really snobby girl a year older than me. You thought I was mean? She literally made three girls cry the first hour she showed up. I don't like her much and the other girls don't really want to talk to me, so it's not really fun. We don't get to do much right now, except go out to the city on trips during the weekends. I decided to some exploring one day though, because this school is as big as a castle! I went to go investigate the sports hall, because I'm going to be involved with archery (you thought you knew all my secrets, huh?). When I was looking at the display case for all the past champions up against other schools, I found something shocking. A plaque, for a Ivan Northwest winning a Rugby Championship back in the late 60's! I saw the picture and he looked sorta of what I would look like, if I was a guy. It was really surreal. When I asked around to the teachers and coaches, they said they didn't really know anything about him. They said the dean would know, because she's been here since the 50's, but she's gone until the school term starts. I don't really know if he's related to me, but my father never has mentioned anyone like that before. What do you two think? Should I ask her when she returns? Anyways, Dipper, don't stick your head into a book and waste away the rest of your summer. Mabel, you seriously need a wardrobe update, before starting junior high. Red looks nice on brunettes, just as a word of advice. I hope you two enjoy the rest of your summer. Write back soon! -_Pacifica Elise Northwest_.**"**  
**

Tears dripped onto the cursive scrawled across the paper. "S-She might not even make it to junior high."

_~!-?-!~_

Fiddleford had insisted he could wash himself, though Stan suggested he keep the door unlocked, in case he had an accident in the shower. He exited the bathroom, peeking into the living room. Gideon released a low sounding snore, appearing peaceful in his sleep. Stan smiled to himself at the sight, heading back to the kitchen. When he found Dipper crushing a letter in his hands, gasping through his sobs, he was immediately by his side. "Woah, what's wrong now?"

Dipper's shoulders quivered, as he choked out his words. "I-I'm never going to s-see Mabel, a-again! S-She's gone for-for-for-ever a-a-a-!"

Stan dragged himself down with his grand-nephew, as he collapsed to his knees, the letter fluttering from his hands. Dipper grasped at his own chest, heaving out his sobs. The elder man wrapped Dipper into his arms, setting him onto his criss-crossed legs. Dipper buried his face into his chest, re-soaking the button-up, and Stan rubbed his back. "Just let it out...just let it out, kid..."

What Stan had realized overtime, was that his attempts to prevent a panic attack wouldn't always work out. He couldn't simply make Dipper calm down or to cease his attacks, he needed to let them run their course. He would be there to soothe Dipper, until he could regain control, but he couldn't stop them. This panic attack wasn't so much hyperventilating, but more of sobbing and shivering from the adrenaline in him. As the trembling edged away, replaced with deep breathes, he pulled the 13-year-old's face from his chest. His chocolate eyes shimmered with tears and Stan rubbed one on his cheek away. "Listen, you _will_ see Mabel, again. I promise you that. I won't give up, until she...and my brother, have their souls back. I would do anything to save them, just like I'm sure you would, kid. Now, I can't stop your concern for her, just like I can't stop my own for Stanley, but everything will be ok."

Dipper bobbed his head up and down. "I-I know you would...I-I'm just s-scared..."

"I know and so am I...you need to keep it together though, so we can save them. Now that I'm listening to Cipher, maybe he'll be more willing to not give us those darn rhymes...though, knowing him, he'll probably just keep doing that."

"H-He helped find Old Man McGucket."

"Mr."

"Sorry...M-Mr. McGucket."

"Yeah, that's true...but, I still wouldn't trust him...you haven't seen everything he's capable of and I'm pretty sure I haven't either."

Dipper shrugged, the internal conflict of listening to his great-uncle or the dream demon returning. "I don't k-know...um, is Mr. McGucket still in the shower?"

"Ah, shoot. Ok, cuddle time is over. I need to go check up on him and get him some clothes to wear," The brunet scrambled off his lap, as he began to rise from the kitchen floor, heading over to the doorway. "Can you go knock on the door and ask him if he's ok in there?"

"Y-Yeah."

Stan headed down to his brother's room, swinging open the door. He headed over to the dresser, sliding open the second drawer. Stanley's frame wasn't as large as his own, so he figure his clothes would be closer to Fiddleford's size. Considering the weight Stanley had gained around his waist, it would be baggy around the hem, but it would have to do. He frowned, as he chose a sweater, and a pair of slacks. His brother had lost weight, while he had been trapped in the pocket dimension, since apparently he hadn't eaten there. When Stanley had first told him this, he completely freaked out. He quickly explained that he didn't need food there to survive, though he did feel the hunger pains. Stan couldn't help but to remember when Bill Cipher hadn't let him eat, while he had been inside his body. He had thought that conversation and the one where he explained how Bill tricked him were painful. What was worse though, was the conversation where he had to explain what he missed out over the years. He left out the details involving his suicide attempt, his depression, and alcoholism, but told him most of everything else. The pained expressions about how his personal life and world had advanced without him, nearly killed Stan. He slammed shut the drawer. "This should work."

He headed down to the bathroom, spotting Dipper re-reading the letter he held in his hands. "Whose that from?"

Dipper looked up from the slip of paper. "Pacifica. She was telling...Mabel and I how boarding school was."

"Hmm," He thought back on the betrayal from Ivan, the one Stan had always seen coming, though no one else had. He didn't believe Preston Northwest's daughter was as dangerous as the rest of the family, and prayed he was right. She honestly seemed to be on friendly terms with the twins, and was able to stand up to her family's mistreatment. Pacifica seemed promising so far and he hoped she would continue to be. "He doing ok?"

"Mr. McGucket said he was ok. He didn't want to come out though, since he doesn't have clothes and all."

"Alright," He knocked upon the door. "Fiddles? Hope you have a towel wrapped around you, cause I'm coming in."

He twisted the handle, cracking the door open. Stan briefly peeked inside, catching a glimpse of Fiddleford curled up on the ground, beside the sink, towel wrapped around him, as the blanket had been in the bunker. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Dipper out in the hallway. He approached the man, observing the dripping water from his beard. The elder man extended the clothes in his hands. "Uh, you need help changing or-?"

Fiddleford adjusted his glasses, a few droplets of water collected on them, shaking his head. "N-No...you can leave t-them on the sink...I-I'll be out in a second..."

He dropped them into the bowl of the sink, heading back to the door. "We'll be in the kitchen, when you're done. I know you're hungry, so I might make us pancakes or something lighter if you can't handle that."

"O-Ok."

Stan exited the bathroom, heading to the kitchen, to reveal Gideon sitting with Dipper at the table. They spoke in hushed voices, Dipper explaining what had occurred when he had fallen asleep at the table earlier. Their attention turned to him, as he entered in the room. The elder Pines headed over to the fridge, swinging it open, and examining the contents. "What are you kiddos in the mood for?"

"Can we have omelets?" Dipper suggested.

"Omelets it is," Stan reached in for the eggs and butter, before he slammed the fridge shut. As he reached into the cabinets for a pan, he began to speak to Gideon. "Guessing Dipper told you what happened. McGucket is going to be staying here for a bit. I don't really know how long, so just to warn you, he might be around a bit."

"I-I d-don't r-really m-mind...i-it's y-your h-house, M-Mr. P-Pines."

He twisted the nob for the flames to appear from the the right sided gas burner, setting down the pan. "If you don't feel comfortable about it, kiddo, I'm gonna do something about it, ok?"

Gideon shook his head. "I-It's f-fine..."

"S-Stanford?" Fiddleford whispered from the doorway, hesitantly inching into the kitchen.

Stan dropped a slap of butter, rubbing it across the sizzling pan with his spatula. "You can come in. I'm just starting some omelets in here. Can you handle that right now?"

The ex-curator entered the room, shuffling over to the table, the end of the slacks he wore, sliding across the floor. The sweater hung down to below his belt, sleeves covering his hands. He settled himself in the seat across from the younger ones. "Um...I...I don't think so..."

"Ok, would you settle for toast, again?" The elder man cracked open some eggs, dropping them in.

"That would be fine."

"I'll make some in a second. Let me just finish up their food."

"Mr. McGucket?" Dipper caught his attention.

"Yes, Dipper?"

"You were friends with Grandpa Stanley, right?"

"Um...y-yes...he...that's right I-I suppose he w-was your grandfather..."

"Do you want to see him?" Stan immediately whirled around, as Fiddleford's eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head at the 13-year-old frantically. He hadn't explained any of that situation with his best friend and it might trigger a type of break down. Dipper noticed the face Stan had, backtracking. "I-I mean, if he was around, would you want to see him?"

"Oh, I would...h-he...he wore glasses when he was younger, didn't he Stan? Or was that y-you?"

"No, that was him. I wore glasses until I got to high school and then I stopped. I had to start wearing them, again, when I was in my 40's though. I got cataracts, so my eyes are as bad as they've ever been." He flipped the first omelet.

"Oh...I-I'm sorry to hear that..and f-for mixing up t-the memories..."

"Stop with the apologizing, Fiddles. Your head is just all mixed up. Things will clear up, so just give it time." He started on with the second omelet, dropping extra cheese on this one, for Dipper.

"I k-know...just...you t-two are merged t-together in my mind..."

"Like I said, everything will clear up." He flipped the second omelet.

"I-Is this like w-when you said I didn't break my c-collar bone, after f-fighting the unicorns, a-and I actually did?"

"...Unicorns?" Dipper mumbled.

Stan whirled around, once more, pointing his spatula, as he hissed at the ex-curator. "We said we were _never_ going to talk about the unicorn incident."

This caused the beginnings of a smile to appear on Fiddleford's face. "Of course, of course..."

"What hap-?" Dipper began to ask, though he was cut off by Stan.

"There's no such thing as unicorns and that's the end of that, ok?" He went back to the cooking, turning off the flames. He opened the cabinet, retrieving three sets of plates, and moving back to the fridge to return the ingredients. After replacing the food, he removed the loaf of bread and headed over to the toaster. He set it on the lowest setting, before heading to the table to present the meal to the youngest pair. "Bon appetit, you little gremlins."

"T-Thank y-you." Gideon answered, before he and Dipper dug into their breakfast.

"And, your toast will be done in a second, Fiddles," The moment he told him this, the toast popped out. "There we go."

After placing the toast on the plate, he handed it to his best friend. Fiddleford had small portions of the toast, munching carefully, so not to upset his weak stomach. Stan observed the trio, realizing they were distracted by their food. He headed out of the kitchen, unbeknownst to them, heading to the phone in the entryway of the front door. The elder Pines reached out to the phone and removed it from the jack. His hand hovered over the numbers, before dialing the number he desired. "...Tate? It's me, Stan."

"Stan?" The voice questioned into his ear. Stan knew he wouldn't ever remember the relationship they had before and that had saddened him over the years, yet he had managed to befriend him over the years. They weren't close friends, though they had had a couple of poker games over the years and been to the lodge as well. Or, at least before the members decided to ban him for being a threat to their lives. That sure wasn't the first time that had occurred and he was confident it wouldn't be the last. "This is unusual. You usually call later in the day."

"Yeah, well I had something to talk to you about."

"...What's going on?"

"It's about your pops."

"...hold on, I'm going somewhere more private," Stan hadn't even thought about him being out by the lake for work, though he supposed being the head ranger there, would mean he would be present the most. He listened to a variety of random sounds come over the line, as Tate found somewhere to speak to him, without anyone overhearing."Ok, what'd he do now?"

"Uh...well...this is sorta complicated, but I'll just tell you this; he's becoming sane, again."

"...what do you mean?"

"Well, you remember how I was friends with him, when we were younger?"

"Uh, yeah, vaguely."

"He's starting to remember who I am and acting how he used to be. You probably don't remember how he was before, bu-"

"Oh, no, I remember. Are you sure though? You know my dad has his lucid moments."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. He's actually over at the Mystery Shack with me and he's been like this for awhile now."

"...what if he starts to regress back though?"

Stan didn't want to even think about that. "He's really becoming sane, again. I just thought I sound let you know."

"Ok, well, can you just watch him for awhile? If...if he's still like that in two days, I'll swing by and see him."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll keep you updated. Bye."

"Bye." Stan pressed the phone to his forehead, breathing out a sigh of frustration.

_End Chapter 38_

**Awww, little Dipper and Mabel are soooo adorable in the newest episode. I absolutely loved it and Dippy Fresh was the most 90's reference I've probably seen in my life. The ending of the episode nearly had me squealing though, Stan having his chief sash and becoming the leader during the apocalypse is the best. I can't wait for the next episode! Anyways, notes for this chapter are only about Tate McGucket. Tate, in my story at least, has a type of love-hate relationship with his father. I imagined it as he couldn't quite handle his father losing his mind, so he had to avoid him at all costs. Tate probably has the memory of Fiddleford being sane in his mind, but what he became killed him. The idea that Fiddleford was returning to sanity would frightened him in a way, considering how much he's longed for that moment, though he had given up long ago. As always, favorites, reviews, and followers are appreciated!  
**


	40. Chapter 39

_Chapter 39_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

"J-Just trim it, please..." Fiddleford whimpered out, eyes squeezed shut. Stan held the scissors in his right hand, left hand on his friend's shoulder for comfort. He had requested for his lengthy beard to be trimmed down to a manageable state, considering how difficult it was to maintain and how itchy it was against his exposed neck. Stan supposed that Fiddleford hadn't paid much attention to it before, but now that his mind was beginning to stabilize in a way (though he was considerably a long way away from being sane), he noticed his appearance.

"I ain't gonna accidentally cut you, so just calm down." He rolled his eyes down at the ex-curator.

"I-I know, b-but I..."

"Don't trust me?"

Fiddleford's eyes snapped open. "I-I do!"

"Then, relax, so I can cut this damn beard off."

He bit his lip, squirming in the seat located in the bathroom, before releasing a deep breath. "I'm ready."

Stan dropped his hand, moving to stand in front of him. He reached out, before snipping off half of the beard, letting the hair fall partly into Fiddleford's lap and onto the floor. The ex-curator had flinched at the snip, stiffing as Stan cut closer, before beginning to trim the end. He could feel the metal brushing up against his jawline, shivering from how cool it felt to his skin. When Stan finished off the trim, he brushed his hands through the shorten beard, pieces of hair drifting down from it. Fiddleford visibly relaxed and Stan patted his shoulder. "That look alright?"

He assisted Fiddleford in standing and turned him to the mirror. He had a much cleaner appearance, though he thought being bald with a beard appeared unnatural to himself. There wasn't much he could do about hair on top of his head though, considering his age. Now that he didn't wear overalls though, he thought he appeared much as he had been when he was young. Stan had went by his old house, finding much of his clothes to be abandoned in the closet, most moth-eaten and frayed. After searching for a couple of minutes though, he had savaged a couple for his friend. "Yes, thank you."

"Good. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm beat and I'm sure the kids are as well," Stan answered, removing the towel wrapped around Fiddleford's body, dumping the hair across the floor. "Though I gotta get Dipper to clean this up first."

Fiddleford frowned, a thought occurring to him. "I didn't notice until now, but...w-where is Mabel?"

Stan stiffened, before easily passing a lie. "She's spending the night at one of her friend's houses."

"Oh..."

"Anyways, you can sleep in my brother's room, if that's ok with you?" He asked, as they exited the bathroom, heading towards the living room.

"That's alright." The ex-curator agreed immediately, fine with the familiarity of that room.

"Ok...Dipper," They arrived, to reveal him and Gideon to be laying on their stomachs in front of the television set, though neither seemed to be focused on the cartoon being played. They had a haze to their eyes, as though they were stuck in deep thoughts. He had a distraction for the moment, which was taking care of his best friend, while the younger ones didn't. He knew what their minds were drifting to, though Dipper snapped from his thoughts on Mabel, when he called out his name. "Can you get the broom and sweep up the hair in the bathroom?"

A glint appeared in his eyes, Stan immediately knowing Jason was on the surface. "Kid, that better be a 'yes, sir' that comes out of your mouth and not some sassy answer."

Dipper snapped his mouth shut, the glint remaining though, he stiffly nodded. It seemed at moments when Dipper was set of edge, such as his emotions on his sister being missing, did Jason make minor appearances. Jason had merged into Dipper's personality, so he remained subdued, but Stan didn't believe he could ever get used to that whole concept. "Ok..._Grunkle _Stan..."

Gideon observed his friend, taking note of the tone. The elder Pines narrowed his eyes at his great-nephew, aware Jason was pissed at this point, though held it back for appearances. Fiddleford was confused at the entire exchange, frowning at them. Dipper pulled himself to his feet, before heading to the kitchen for the broomstick. He glowered over his shoulder at Stan, before disappearing from the room. Fiddleford frowned deeper, before whispering to Stan. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, he's just upset...um, Mabel and I got into a fight, so she went to her friends' house, until things cooled down." He smoothly lied, aware that Jason was actually upset with him. He had a theory as to why, though didn't quite understand the reasoning. He probably blamed him for his sister being abducted by Jill Rephic, though he wasn't upset with Gideon hiding the knowledge that she was inside Mabel. Now, Stan didn't blame Gideon, but he blamed the root of the problem, the obsessive dream demon herself. Jason wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind when Dipper exhibited him, so he couldn't exactly analyze the reasoning for his anger.

"Oh...is there anything I could do to help?"

"No, everything will be ok, let's just get you to bed, ok?" He replied, waving away his concern. "Gideon, I think you should go off to bed, kiddo. We're going to be...busy later."

Gideon seemed to perk up at these words, knowing Stan was going to work on discovering where Mabel and Stanley were tomorrow, though he didn't know how, when he needed to assist Old Man McGucket in stabilizing his mind. The 11-year-old wasn't going to question this though, because he wanted Mabel back. He hadn't been comfortable around her, ever since she began to act different. He was thankful though, it wasn't her, but Jill Rephic. She hadn't changed, but he missed her right now. And, he knew what Jill could do to her. Gideon knew he was a poster child for what could happen. He couldn't work through his stutter and found himself in the midst of flashbacks, involving her presence. Though, he supposed in a way though, they were perhaps better than the one's involving his father. "O-Ok."

The freckled boy began to head to the staircase, though he was startled to run directly into Dipper, standing on the first step. Gideon flinched, backing away, before frowning in confusion. "Um, D-Dip-?"

Dipper's-no, Jason's-piercing gaze deepened, as he gazed into Gideon's royal blue eyes. "...I just heard her."

"M-Mabel?"

"No, Jill Rephic's."

Gideon's eyes widened at the words and he licked his lips nervously. "W-What d-did s-she s-say?"

"...she knew I was listening...she..." He clenched his fists, face twisting into a scowl. "...she said...'dear, don't bother rescuing your family, because they're mine now, and the Nightmare Realm is unreachable by mere mortals, such as yourself'."

The 11-year-old froze, beginning to tremble from head-to-toe. Jason seemed to melt from Dipper's face, replaced with a mask of concern and confusion. He stepped forward, off the first step, reaching out to Gideon. A hand rubbed his shoulder and he released a quivering sigh of tension. "D-Did you say the N-Nightmare R-Realm?"

"...you know what that is, don't you?" Gideon's pudgy hands trembled by his sides, raising up to cover his eyes. "Gideon?"

"I-I...s-she's n-never c-coming b-back!" Tears slipped out from the spaces in-between his fingers, hunching his head over.

"What? Gideon, what do you mean?" Dipper-Jason-sounded sharp, demanding, as his fingers dug into his shoulder.

"What's going on over here?" Stan appeared by the entryway, Fiddleford lingering behind. "Didn't I tell you to go clean u-Kid?"

He pulled his fingers from his face, snot dripping from his nose, appearing nearly hysterical. His eyes were blown wide, pupils darting about, from each figure surrounding him. He leaned forward to Dipper, whispering hoarsely. "...p-people a-aren't s-supposed t-to g-go t-there...i-it...t-twists t-their s-soul a-and...t-they b-become...d-demons a-are b-born i-in a-all s-sorts o-of w-ways..."

"S-Stanford...is there something I need to know?" Fiddleford broke the silence that had ensued after Gideon's crypt words, appeared pasty pale.

"Gideon, what did you just say?" Stan demanded, ignoring his friend, and grabbing Gideon by the forearm in a tight grip. The freckled boy didn't flinch away, distant look in his eyes. Stan shook him, his own heart beating violently in his chest, the realization what Gideon had whispered to them. His hand loosened it's hold, before dropping to his side. "...holy Honey Nut Cheerios..."

Dipper felt himself gulp down his panic, as he stated what they feared. "Grandpa Stanley and Mabel are going to turn into demons."

A clap of a noise louder than thunder echoed throughout the Mystery Shack, causing all the occupants to cover their ears. A golden light momentarily blinded them, heat roiling the air enough to produce a steam above their heads. They all blinked, shaking away the ringing in their ears. Bill Cipher floated in the middle of the room, massive in size, eye glowing a red hue. The room had lost all saturation, Bill's glow drawing attention to all around, though the red eyes was what truly captivated them. The heat seemed to emerge from the dream demon himself, voice rumbling out his displeasure. "_THIS IS GOING TO END NOW! The number of rules she has and will break, results in the highest level of punishment: **destruction**."  
_

They all trembled, visibly frightened by his presence and screeching voice rattling their bones. Fiddleford was curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut. Stan was on his hands and knees, eyes wide, as he stared frozen in place at the dream demon. Gideon had covered his eyes, producing a series of choking and sobbing noises. Dipper's knees wobbled, mouth gaping open at him. There was a moment of silence, before he spoke, voice barely heard. "W-Who are y-you, to decide t-that?"

Bill's pupil darted over to him, heat increasing enough to cause the four to break out into a sweat. Then, the heat died, leaving an icy coldness to wash over them. They all shivered, as fog swirled out from their mouth. Goosebumps raised on their skin and the red vanished immediately from his glow. His golden hue appeared before their eyes, though he continued to induce a feeling of horror from him. "_I'm not the one to decide that. I am simply the one to be assigned for this assassination."_

"B-By who?" Stan hoarsely choked out.

Bill's pupil darted to him, his mood alternating to an unknown one, as the temperature of the room returned to normal. An pressure that had frightened them beyond what they had experienced before, vanished in an instant. They were shaken though, all four trembling. Fiddleford continued to be curled into a ball, eyes squeezed shut, whispering aloud. "No...no...no...not again..."

The cane in Bill's hands was pointed at Fiddleford, his other hand snapping his fingers. The whispering ceased and the ex-curator slumped forward, onto the ground. Stan gaped in horror at the unconscious homeless man, before lunging at the dream demon. His voice exploded with rage, hands reaching out for revenge for his best friend. "CIPHER!"

Bill rolled his eye, snapping his fingers, once more. His finger, barely a centimeter from touching Bill, froze in place, as the rest of his body did. The hand that had snapped, used the index finger to point downwards. Stan was slammed in the wooden floor, releasing a groan of pain. The triangle shrunk in size, floating closer to the elder man. "_I've wiped his mind of me appearing before him today, along with the damage he has done to his own mind over the years. Some of his memories will have gaping holes, but what can you do? Working with the mind is tricky business, but he wouldn't be so off his rocker anymore. Frankly, his whole little crazy-trash-eating-racoon-marrying-shenanigans were becoming boring._"

Stan's eyebrows furrowed, confusion apparent on his face. "H-Holes? But...y-you...y-you can't be trusted..."

"_And, to answer your earlier question, that is knowledge you don't need, nor would you understand the concept of. What you do know though, is that the time for the wheel to end, draws near._" The dream demon drawled, ignoring the stuttering words emerging from the elder Pine's lips._  
_

"W-What?" Dipper whispered, the words striking a sense of dread, deep within his soul. Bill's cane disappeared from view, increasing into his previous size. Instead of answering his question, he lifted his hands into the air. They began to glow, as golden as his eyes had become, voice rumbling steadily throughout the confines of the room.

"_THE PROPHECY SEEMED FAR AWAY, BUT FINALLY WE'VE REACHED THE DAY._ _AND, T__HOUGH THEY WILL STRIVE, __ONLY THREE PINES WILL SURVIVE___._ ONE DEMON WILL BE TRAPPED INSIDE, BUT THEY KNOW THEY CAN'T HIDE. A BOND THOUGHT DEPARTED, WILL BE RESTARTED. IT HAS BEEN QUITE FUN, BUT ___DESTINY HAS FINALLY HAD IT'S RUN. SO, UNTIL THE MOMENT ARISES, YOU'LL BE IN FOR A FEW SURPRISES.__" He tipped his top hat to them, before vanishing in a bright flash of light.

_~!-?-!~_

"FIDDLES! FIDDLEFORD!" Stan's hands clung to his shoulders, shaking the unconsciousness ex-curator. Dipper reached out to his great-uncle, taking hold of one of the hands. He whirled his head to the 13-year-old, a desperate look plastered across his face. Dipper's heart ached at the broken sight, knowing there were few instances he had seen Stan nearly unravel. He knew there had been details he had never been told about the elder man's past, ones he would never likely reveal. The past the brunet had heard, sounded heart wrenching, and could drive a man to crumble. He didn't know how close Stan had been to the edge, but he did know that he couldn't let him do so right now.

"He's ok, Grunkle Stan. His mind has to adjust to the changes, before he can wake up."

Stan blinked a couple of times, removing his hands from Fiddleford, allowing him to be laid back onto the wooden floorboards. He removed his fez, running a hand through his grayed hair, and the desperate look became a blank one. "Yeah...I knew that...just...You ok there, kid? You're hands were shaking when you grabbed me."

Dipper bobbed his head up and down. "I think Gideon isn't though."

The freckled boy had collapsed onto the first step of the stairs, hands clinging to the railing. His face had a much more ashen complex to it, than usual, which caused his freckles to stick out vividly against his skin. Stan brought himself to his feet and cautiously approached Gideon. When he didn't react, the elder man plopped down next to him. "You doing ok, kiddo?"

Gideon's voice came out, without a stutter, sounding not quite there. "I need to tell you about_ it_."

"The Nightmare Realm?" Dipper asked, standing in front of the pair.

Stan, whole had began to rub Gideon's back as a sigh of comfort, frowned at these words. "Nightmare Realm...why does that sound familiar?"

"Grunkle Stan?"

He gasped aloud, using his other hand to cover his mouth. "The Cipher File!"

"Wait, what?" The 13-year-old was ignored though, as Stan jerked his hand away from Gideon, and scrambled up from the staircase. He sprinted away from the room, disappearing to an unknown location. "Grunkle Stan! Where are you going?!"

Gideon muttered an incomprehensible sentence, catching his attention. Dipper briefly glanced over to the hallway his great-uncle had disappeared through, before he sat himself next to his friend, leaning in to hear him better. "What did you say?"

The 11-year-old's eyes were red-rimmed, though no tears were welled up in his eyes. "Souls get broken there and change into...what's there, destroys souls and then the demons trick them, into becoming like them...you see what you're scared of most and...you become a demon..."

Dipper felt a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. His words were momentarily stuck in his throat, before he questioned further. "How do you know that?"

"Jill, she told me lots and lots of things..." His voice sounded nearly giddy, the echoes of who he been before, shadowing who he was today.

"Here it is!" Stan called out, as he entered the room, hand holding onto a manilla folder. The words "**THE CIPHER FILE**" were printed in a bolded red in the font. Gideon's eyes flickered over to the elder man, leaning his face up against the railing. He appeared exhausted, the previous echo missing, as Stan shoved Dipper over, into Gideon. "Budge over, will you? A old man's gotta sit, especially after that sprint I just did."

Dipper complied, side flush up against his friend, as Stan blew off the layer of dust on the top of the file. He opened it, tilting the folder to the side, so that his grand-nephew could view the contents. "My brother decided to put this together and I helped out a little."

The first image sent shivers down his spine, as he observed every detail of the illustration. A human skull, with an eye bulging outwards was presented to him, the outline of the flesh surrounding it. The words "**OUR WORLD**" were bolded across the top. The next had the words "**MIND SCAPE**", with a human figure gaping at a image of Bill Cipher, lines stretched taunt in the background, reminiscent of muscle tenons. The final, featured a larger image of the dream demon, his arms outstretched, with fires blazing in each. "**NIGHTMARE REALM**" burned into his retinas, tingles of anxiety shooting through his veins. "Dipper?"

He forcefully dragged his eyes away, suddenly realizing his breathing sounded fast paced. He breathed, in and out, deep breathes, before he calmed. Stan was obviously concerned by the reaction, but handed the file to Dipper anyways, when he stretched out his hands for it. He flipped to the next page, reading over articles about pyramids and studying the images of drawn triangles. When he suddenly stumbled across the images of ancient objects with stars, his eyes widened. Stan abruptly snatched the files away, appearing bewildered. "What the hell? These weren't here the last time I saw this!"

"T-That's Grandpa Stanley's handwriting though..."

He frowned, fingers brushing across the familiar script, and nodded. "They are...when did he put these in though...?"

A faded photograph, exhibiting the Milky Way, had stars twinkling throughout. A hastily scribbled note was writing across, sounded quite paranoid to his chocolate eyes. "**Is she always watching? Every night, can she see my activities?**" Stan seemed to be reading the same line Dipper was, for he rubbed his thumb across it, as he whispered. "He's known about her...this whole time...and he never told me he knew..."

_~!-?-!~_

Stan light his cigarette, lungs begging for the toxic, yet calming, smoke to fill them. The flames licked the end, lighting it afire, as he shoved the other end into his mouth. He inhaled the smoke, beginning to feel the tension leave his shoulders. Stanley never told him, that there had been another dream demon, harassing them during the same time period. He and Dipper had found notes, describing how she had appeared, harassing him to join her, in another realm all together. He had been frightened of Bill Cipher at first, but had begin to want him to appear, more than Jill Rephic. He had told the male dream demon about her and according to the notes, his reaction had been crypt. He had informed him that he knew she was messing with what she shouldn't be and could take care of her. Stan didn't think he ever did anything though, until now. He dropped his head into his hands. "Jesus, I could of helped you..."

Gideon and Dipper had been sent to the attic, so he could have alone time with himself. He had allowed Dipper to take The Cipher File upstairs, so he could further analyze it, Stan knowing his great-nephew would treat it as if it was made of glass, and inflict no damage to the records of the dream demons. He lifted his head, removing the cigarette from his lips, blowing out a ring out smoke. He observed the haze, float away, before disappearing into a wisp of smoke. He wondered when Fiddleford would wake, glancing up from the dining room table, to him laying in the reclining chair. Before his thoughts could drift further, the telephone rang. He sighed and headed over to the phone. As the elder man plucked up the phone from the jack, his cigarette slid over to the corner of his mouth. "Hello?"

"Mr. Pines?" Soos' voice drifted into his ears.

"Soos? Why the hell haven't you called? I told you four days and you don't even call for two weeks!" He was pissed off by this fact, slight concern present in the back of his mind, about the young adult. He didn't know the exact address or phone number of where he would be, when visiting his mother in the hospital.

"I know and I'm sorry Mr. Pines. I...got caught up and didn't really pay attention, and..." He sounded exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in years.

"What's going on, Soos? You don't sound..."

"...My mami she...passed away about a week ago...my relatives didn't call, until they were sure she didn't have much time left..."

Stan froze at the words, mouth twitching, as he attempted to think of words to apply to this situation. "Um...uh...t-that sucks..."

"Mr. Pines, you don't have to try to make me feel better. I know you're not too good at that stuff and I'm better now...I'm not...over it, but I'll be ok...we had the funeral a few days ago, so I'm coming home tomorrow." Soos explained, as Stan felt guilty at the knowledge that he couldn't produce a source of comfort. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he had seen Soos as a type of son, for quite awhile now. He treated him gruffly, but underneath his facade, he had a soft spot for him.

"...Take a few more days, kid. You don't have to be in a hurry to return here." Stan answered, realizing perhaps he shouldn't involve Soos in what would occur over the course of the next few days.

"Oh, Mr. Pines, I've already taken so much time off an-"

"Soos, it's fine. Just, hang out with your relatives for a few more days, and just relax, ok?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, kid, I am. And...I'm sorry about your mother, I really am."

"...thank you, Mr. Pines..."

Stan felt a lump at in his throat at the words. "See you in a few days, Soos."

"Ok, goodbye Mr. Pines." He hung up, leaving Stan there, with the phone in his hands, the smoke swirling around his face.

_End Chapter 39_

**Perhaps you've noticed the hints throughout the story, but in case you haven't, I'll state this plainly. This wonderful story, that's I've worked on for a year now (I wrote the rough drafts back in November of last year), is soon drawing to a close. There are only a handful of chapters left to be written, so the story may end anywhere between late December, to January of 2016. I won't be saying any goodbyes yet (I'll leave that for the final chapter), but I really want to thank you all for the support you've given me. Now, notes in this chapter include the following; If anyone is still confused about the entire Dipper/Jason aspect of this story, I'll try to explain it the best I can right now. Dipper is the main personality, that usually interacts with others, while Jason is a minor one. Though they've combined into one individual once more, there are moments when you can tell who is who. Jason is more the one that appears when Dipper feels threatened or when he feels intense moments of anger/frustration. Who exactly assigned Bill the assassination? Well, let's just say there's a higher being in all of this, one that will remain anonymous, simply because I find that to be the best approach to the idea I have of them. What I will tell you, is the the best dream demons are by their side, doing all the work that is needed for the wheels to continue to move. Now, with the prophecy, I took the first line from a decoded cipher in "Dipper and Mabel VS. The Future", while the rest I made myself (rhyming stuff is sooo hard!). The Nightmare Realm was in The Cipher File and was the where all of Bills' friends come from, when he opens the rift. When I imagine Stanley, choosing between which demon he would trust more, I feel as though that would be Bill, instead of Jill. In my story, which side Bill is on exactly, is a blur. Why exactly does it seem he tortures the older Pines, while helping out the younger ones? Well, that's an answer you'll have to find out for yourself. **


	41. Chapter 40

_Chapter 40_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

She observed her hands, trembling beneath her face, with the force of the stars. Stars. Her hands were pure darkness, engulfing her essence, stars dotting her palms and fingers. She breathed deeply, released a haze of fog, though coldness didn't penetrate her skin. The stars were vibrating down to her bones and she supposed if she were to cut open her palm, galaxies would pour out, instead of blood. She opened her eyes, realizing with a jolt that they had been closed. Her eyes swiveled around, revealing a swirling black hole, compelling her to it's opening. She couldn't feel her body, though her hands occasionally tingled with nerves. "Mabel?"

The voice echoed fiercely, the black hole roaring in the background, reminiscent of the portal. Mabel's eyes traced over the figure beside her, recognizing the voice to be Stanley's. He appeared naked before her, not an inappropriate or physical sense, more as a type of pureness. His soul was bare to her, as was her own. His haired bristled, due to an unseen force, stars littering him. The black hole pulsed, releasing a stream of stars into their vicinity. Mabel reached for one, feeling a burning in her hand, before it shimmered into a coldness. "Are you alright, Mabel?"

"Yes..." She replied dreamily, hugging a handful of stars to her chest, and breathing heavily.

Stanley reached out for her, tugging away her arms from the stars. They floated out immediately, returning to their original positions. He held her hand in his own, squeezing gently. The stars began to fall, shooting away, the darkness surrounding them melting, as though it was ice beginning to heat. The black hole spiraled out of existence. The background morphed into one of a university classroom, chalk boards, and book shelves littering the room. Their physical form remained the same, though no longer with stars, replaced by mathematical and chemistry equations scrawled across their skin. "Interesting...perhaps are minds and bodies in the mindscape?"

Mabel shook her head. "No...Me and Dipper didn't look like this, when I was in his...our head."

"Was that when Jill melded your minds together?"

"Uh-huh. She was in my head and Jason was still a different person then. The four of us were together."

"I wonder where...?"

"...It is the mindscape, but...It feels wrong, Grandpa Stanley."

"I agree...Mabel, am I correct in my belief that you can't feel your body?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "I can't even feel you holding my hand."

"That would confirm that are bodies are not here. That would leave our minds, yet you already confirmed that you didn't appear in this state, the last you entered the mindscape...that would only leave our..." He trailed off, eyes widening. "...souls."

"_Yes!_" Jill Rephic appeared in a flash of light, in a human form, exhilarated at the sight of them. "_Your bodies and minds were left back in Reality._"

The background dropped within a second, replaced by the darkness and stars. The stars vibrated angrily, as asteroids collided forcefully behind them. Mabel gripped her grandfather's hand tighter, though her couldn't feel it, as a planet in the distance rumbled, exploding. Hues of angry colors were spat into the furthest reaches of sight. Mabel's face morphed into a scowl, startling Stanley at the abrupt change in personality. "JILL!"

"_Oh, the destruction you are create is absolutely gorgeous! I knew you had a darkness within yourself, I could feel it!_" She admired the remainder of the explosion, the glow highlighting her face eerily.

Stanley frowned. "Mabel?"

Mabel gulped, the asteroids ceasing movement abruptly, spinning slowly through space. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her smile dropped, heels echoing as she approached the pair. She leaned in close, ignoring how Stanley tensed at her presence, preparing to defend his granddaughter from her, if needed. Her plump lips frowned, before leaning in closer, whispering into Mabel's ears. The soothing tone of her voice was replaced by a vicious hiss. "_You dare deny what you feel?_"

Mabel's jaw clenched defiantly, though she never replied. Her grandfather frowned at the exchange, while Jill pulled her face away. Her angelic features twisted into a distorted version, nostrils flaring with fury. She whipped back around, her feather boa backhanding Mabel, the 13-year-old releasing a yelp of surprise, as she couldn't feel pain. Stanley was startled to witness a darkened trail of blood, stars streaming within it, drip down her cheek. The boa had cut her. Mabel pressed her fingers to the cut, eyebrows furrowing together hatefully. "_I thought perhaps you were as I was as a human. I appeared to be wrong though,_" She whirled back around, her angelic features returned, and a smile curled upon her lips. "_You're like Bill. You attempt to be who you aren't. He denied himself from his urges as a human and was miserable until the day he passed. Don't worry though, sweetie, I'll help you change that when we arrive._"

"Arrive where?" Stanley questioned hesitantly, curious about the conversation between the pair, yet he knew he needed to know what would occur to them in the near future.

"_Why, the Nightmare Realm, my darling._"

The older Pines tensed at these words. "...W-What?"

"_Oh, you know,_" Her smile grew, as she approached Stanley, eyes gleaming. "_Where we demons reside._"

Jill removed her boa, flinging it around Stanley, lowering it to his waist. He visibly flinched, before he was tugged closer to her. The female dream demon leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He shivered, the feeling of coldness registering in his mind, noticing Mable glowering at her from the corner of his eyes. "Y-You can't."

"_Yes, I can._" She answered, removing the feather boa from his waist, and releasing him from her hold. He backtracked a couple of steps, wiping his palm across his cheek in disgust.

"We would either die or..." He froze, eyes wider than before.

"_It seems you got the idea, darling._"

"Or what?" Mabel asked, wiping at the darkened blood, and causing it to smear.

"...we become demons."

The 13-year-old closed her eyes, the glowing hue of Jill Rephic continuing to burn her retinas. Demons. Her soul, bared to the core, would reveal her inner darkness. She would change into a demon easily, due to her already demonic thoughts. The thoughts to hurt others as a form of revenge, to the point of begging for relief. She didn't want to feel such emotions, yet desired to have them consume her. She had controlled most of it, though there had been the moments where she had released her urges. Jill was right. Fighting her urges made her miserable. Yet...she knew if she didn't resist her urges when she entered the dream realm, she would leave behind her family. Her eyes opened, releasing a puff of breath. "I won't become one."

The lips on the dream demon spread wide enough, that they covered her entire face. "_I suppose we'll have to see what you can handle in the Nightmare Realm._"

The black hole reappeared and both of the Pines knew when they reached the swirling mouth, they would never return.

_~!-?-!~_

After that late night phone call from Soos, Stan hadn't done much. He went back to the kitchen, smoking his cigarette all the way down to the butt, before pressing the remains onto his arm. He felt a slight sting, as the smoke died out, and pulled the crumbling remains away. A reddened circle vibrantly appeared against his skin. The elder man flicked away the remains, before slumping his head down into his crossed arms. He didn't know long he remained in that position, before deciding to go and check on the younger ones. He peeked into the attic's room, eyes drifting to the the glow of a flashlight in Dipper's hands, as he studied the file. He glanced up, the shining light jerking towards his general direction. "Oh, you scared me."

"Kid, I think it's time for bed. Gideon's already out cold..." He gestured towards the snoozing 11-year-old to his right. "...and you look exhausted."

"You do, too." Dipper replied, the light hovering around Stan's lower face.

"That's why I'm gonna try sleeping, after I make you go to bed."

Dipper closed the file and dropped the flashlight to his lap. "What do you think Bill's rhyme meant this time?"

Stan sighed, knowing he wouldn't sleep, until he received an answer. "Hopefully that Jill Rephic is gonna get what she deserves."

"Bill said he was told to kill her, but...then his rhyme said she'll be trapped."

Stan rolled his eyes, approaching his bed. "Dipper, I don't know how many times I have to repeat myself, but what Cipher says most of the time, is lies. His little 'prophecy', is nothing more than some cryptic way of messing with us."

His eyebrows furrowed. "He told us where Mr. McGucket was though."

"Because, he wanted to erase his mind. Because of him, Fiddleford won't remember a lot of important stuff."

"But, won't that help him feel better?"

"I don't think having holes in anyone's memory, is gonna make you feel any better."

"Ok, but what's the truth of what he said today then? And, how does that help him?"

"Hell if I know. What I can tell you, is that someone is gonna end up hurt in the end. And, I rather it be me, than anyone of you. Most of what he says though, is a lie."

Dipper frowned. "...Grunkle Stan, I don't he's lying about either of the things he said."

"And, why do you think that?" He asked, humoring the 13-year-old, as sat down at the end of his great-nephew's bed.

"Because, I know how he is."

"Kid, I'm starting to think you don't. You do realize how often he lies and tricks people?"

"Yeah, but...he tricks Mabel and me a lot...he doesn't lie though?"

"Lies and tricks go hand in hand."

Dipper shook his head. "No, you don't understand."

"No, I don't."

"Um...ok, well...he...he does things, bad things, but they stop worse things from happening."

"What are you talking about?"

"...Bill makes deals, that make bad things happen to people. But, he saves them from something worse happening...I guess it's like a loophole or something?"

"Okkkkk...and can you give me an example?"

Dipper fidgeted, biting his lip. "...when I fell down the stairs and Jason appeared, because of my head injury...it wasn't an accident. Bill, he, um, he made me fall down the stairs."

Stan shut his eyes, taking deep breathes, to control his impending outrage. "...Ok, I'm not going to say anything about that for second, but why?"

The 13-year-old appeared hesitant, before plunging into what he wanted to explain. "...Jill messed with the original timeline and was planning on killing me right then. Bill, pushing me down the stairs, and injuring me instead of killing me, made me stay alive."

"So, what, you were alive in the first timeline an...?"

"No, I would...d-die when I was sixteen and only Mabel would come to Gravity Falls."

"...and how were you gonna die?"

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, the words of what could have been, returning to his mind. "I-I would have...h-hung myself."

His answer was received with a silence, that was dragged out for a minute or two. He peeked his eyes open, observing his great-uncle. His face was in his hands, a sigh finally heard from the elder man. "...Do you want to kill yourself, Dipper?"

"N-Not anymore!" He immediately answered, concerned by Stan's reaction.

"Jesus Christ, kid...I don't know how many more times I can take you dropping bombs on me like this. 'Not anymore'? You were planning on killing yourself and you never told anyone?"

"I-I wasn't...I w-wasn't planning on going t-through with i-it...a-at least in this t-timeline..." He muttered, ashamed of his thoughts he had experienced, before he had arrived to this town.

Stan removed his face from his hands, startling Dipper from how red-rimmed they were. His eyes shone with tears, raw emotion deep in them. When Stan reached out, wrapping his arms around Dipper's shoulders, he automatically leaned in. He heard a sniffle in his ear and wrapped his own arms around the elder man's frame. "Grunkle Stan?"

"I-I almost didn't meet you," He great-uncle mumbled. "I-Imagine that..."

The brunet gulped, attempting to imagine never meeting one of the family members he loved most. "I...can't."

Stan sighed into his ear, before reluctantly revealing his thoughts. "I guess...Cipher did us both a favor then..."

Dipper supposed that was the closest to an understanding they would come to.

_~!-?-!~_

"**Dear Pacifica, Glad to know you're not befriending any snobs, though it would be hard to find one as bad as you. That was meant to be a joke, but knowing you, that went over your head. France must be nice this time of year, with the cooler weather and all. It's so hot in Gravity Falls right now, that it feels like I'm dying. I'm sweating a river, right as I'm writing this. And, archery sounds like a cool sport. I'm not really good at any sports, so I don't really pay attention to them, but I'm sure you're good at it. That's really weird about that Ivan Northwest guy. It sounds like you found your own mystery to check out, though it probably won't be as cool as finding anything in Gravity Falls. Mabel and me haven't been doing much around here, though we have a new edition to the house. Gideon Gleeful. Now, before you make that face you always do (you know the one), I'll tell you he isn't as bad as you would think he is. He's actually nice, but really shy, so when you do return, you should probably not act like a snob right away around him. He might get scared. Gideon is a good friend though, so I think you would like him right now. No, I'm not going to 'waste away' the rest of my summer reading. Reading is a good use of my time and I'm insulted that you would think it isn't. And, Mabel says she is a fashion goddess and is fine just the way she is. I hope you have a good rest of your summer and keep me updated on this Ivan guy. -_Dipper__ Pines_.**"**  
**

"What are you writing, kid?" Stan peered over his shoulder, and Dipper immediately attempted to cover up the words with a blush.

"N-Nothing!"

"Let me guess: your little blonde girlfriend?" The brunet's blush deepened and Stan knew he had been spot on.

"P-Pacifica isn't my girlfriend!"

"Sure she isn't." Stan laughed at his grand-nephew's embarrassed scowl, shaking his head.

"She isn't my girl-!"

"M-Mr. P-Pines?" Gideon peered into the kitchen hesitantly, voice meekly attracting the pair's attention.

"Yeah, what do you want, kiddo?"

"Um, I-I t-think M-Mr. M-McGucket is w-waking up."

No sooner than the words had left the 11-year-old's mouth, Stan had exited the kitchen, heading to the living room. When he entered, Fiddleford was rubbing his eyes, blinking in confusion, remaining laid back in Stan's reclining chair. The blanket wrapped around his frame slid down to his lap, as he shifted, sitting up from the seat. The ex-curator realized Stan was there and squeezed his eyes shut. "S-Stanford?"

"How you feeling, nerd?" He asked, approaching his best friend, as he observed his sluggish reaction.

"...tired...and...my mouth feels like cotton..." Stan chuckled, realizing his friend seemed...normal. It felt as though they were young, the best of friends, before their entire lives had gone to hell. His laughter died off at the end of his thoughts, concerned about his friend. "Stanford...why...where am I?"

"The Mystery Shack. Don't you remember what happened yesterday?"

"No...I..." Fiddleford brought a hand to his forehead, grimacing. "Yes...you...found me in the...bunker and brought me here. I was...remembering."

"Yeah, you were."

"I...I think I remember...everything?"

Stan blinked in surprise. "Everything?"

"Yes...except...I feel as though...I'm missing something? Someone...someone that built the..."

"Stanley?"

"What? No, I remember your brother. I just feel as though someone else was there."

The elder man immediately realized whom he referred to, knowing that Bill Cipher had erased memories of himself from the homeless man's mind. "Fiddles, what do you remember about that night my brother disappeared?"

"Well...you...you had been acting odd and...you accidentally broke the rope attached to your brother and then the portal failed."

Fiddleford didn't remember the truth of that day, the truth that Bill Cipher had possessed Stanford Pines. With this knowledge in mind, Stan released a sigh and decided to aid this belief. "Yeah, I did..."

"...But...he never...returned..."

Stan gulped, before preceding on with the truth. "Actually, Lee came back."

The ex-curator's eyes widened, mouth gaping open. "STANLEY CAME BACK?!"

"Uh, yeah, h-"

"Where is he?!" Fiddleford pushed himself off of the reclining chair, stumbling forward a few feet, as his head swiveled around wildly. "Is he-?!"

He staggered into his best friend, the elder Pines grasping onto his shoulders to give a sense of balance. Stan's concern grew immensely at this action. The notion that Dipper could have been wrong and Fiddleford actually wasn't alright, struck him. The other had grown silent, left hand rubbing at his forehead, as though he experienced a headache. "Oh...my...my head is...I feel dizzy..."

"You need to sleep more." Dipper appeared behind the pair, observing the ex-curator.

"Oh...I suppose...perhaps...yes...I feel quite sleepy...perhaps I should go back to sleep...Why am I so...tired?" Fiddleford asked in confusion, as Stan guided him back to the reclining chair.

"You remembered a lot of crap, so your head has to adjust to it." Stan felt proud, as though he was responsible for Dipper's smooth lie that rolled off of his tongue.

"Oh, yes...that would explain it all...Stanford?" Stan had draped the blanket back over his frame, his eyelids drooping.

"Yeah?"

"Is...Stanley ok?"

Stan gulped guiltily, as his best friend drifted off to sleep. "Yeah, he is."

_End Chapter 40_

**Oh, would you look at that, it's been three weeks since the last update. Whoops. That last month of the college semester was difficult though and I usually promise a weekly update on my Back to the Future fic, so I had to concern myself with those instead. I finally had time to write out this chapter though, which I'm thankful of. I don't believe any notes for this chapter are necessary, so this author note is going to be brief. Happy Holidays everyone! **


	42. Chapter 41

_Chapter 41  
_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

"What are you kids making?" Stan mumbled blearily, rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting to his nose. He replaced his glasses and blinked a couple of times when he didn't receive an answer. As his eyes adjusted, he realized the one at the stove wasn't Dipper or Gideon, but Fiddleford. He wore Stan's permanently stained apron, removing slices of bacon from the frying pan, and onto a plate beside the stove. The ex-curator glanced up and his lips began to creep upwards, into a sincere smile. "What the hell?"

Fiddleford's smile dropped and he raised an eyebrow. "You know, the polite way to greet one when you wake up is a simple 'good morning'."

Stan approached him, observing the wry expression, realizing it was exactly as the one he had witnessed several times when he was younger. His lips twitched, attempting to suppress his smile. "You're different than yesterday."

"Well, my mind feels clearer than it has been for almost 40 years..." A frown. "Though I feel as though certain aspects in my mind are complete blanks. Perhaps my mind has trapped certain events in my mind, in order to protect my recently recovered sanity."

"Wait, what?"

The ex-curator rolled his eyes. "My brain is likely hiding certain memories from me, so that I don't return to my previous state."

Stan's eyes averted away, feeling guilt about hiding the truth of what occurred last night to him. He could never reveal what truly occurred, for fear of the state his best friend could possibly return to. "Yeah, probably."

Fiddleford turned off the stove, unaware of Stan's nervous behavior. He supposed after all the years the two friends had been apart, Fiddleford had forgotten how the elder Pines naturally behaved. Stan never forgot how his friend was though. He had been haunted by it for decades. "Anyways, perhaps one of us should wake the children, so they can have some of the breakfast I made."

Stan felt himself finally smile. If Fiddleford was better off in this state, he supposed this was the first and possibly the last moment he felt grateful that Bill Cipher was involved in his life.

_~!15-14-5/15-6/20-8-5/5-12-14-5-18/16-9-14-5-19/20-23-9-14-19/23-9-12-12/14-15-20/19-21-18-22-9-22-5!~_

"You ready, Fiddles?" Stan peeked into his bedroom, revealing Fiddleford McGucket tying the laces of his pair of oxfords. He glanced up from his shoes, his walnut colored turtleneck hanging off of his frame, the left sleeve creeping slightly off his shoulder. As the ex-curator opened his mouth to reply, Stan felt himself snicker, receiving a scowl from the other. "Your stupid sweater is so big on you, that you look like a kid!"

"It's a turtleneck for your information and I would appreciate you ceasing your jests!" He stood from the edge of Stan's bed, the turtleneck appearing to swallow him whole, causing Stan to release a chuckle at the sight. Fiddleford rolled his eyes. "Still as immature as ever I see. What next? The McSuckit jokes making a reappearance?"

"I can't make those jokes anymore, Fiddles, because you're too old to get any action wit-"

"Goodbye, Stanford." He shoved past him, causing Stan's grin to widen at the familiar action. This had been a common occurrence throughout their younger years. Typically Stan would offend him or simply get on his nerves enough, that Fiddleford would storm away, fuming about how 'irresponsible' and 'juvenile' the Pines brother was.

"Come on, Fiddles," The elder Pines chuckled, following Fiddleford down the hallway. "You know I'm only messing around, right?"

"After all these years, you expect me to believe that? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Good god, this is almost like the night you got drunk in the summer and wouldn't stop laughing about your own idiotic jokes." The pair went down the stairs, Stan bursting into laughter at the memory, as they did so.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper appeared from the living room, frowning in confusion at his great-uncle. Gideon was beside him, awkwardly watching on, as Stan wailed with laughter. "What happened?"

"It's nothing worth retelling, Dipper. It's simply your uncle being foolish, as per usual." The ex-curator sighed out.

"That's nothing new." The brunet answered, as Stan recalled that night. He remembered his brother telling him he couldn't hold his own liquor, if his life depended on it. He obviously took that as a challenge and began to chug the bottle of whiskey before their horrified eyes. They had attempted to wrestle it from his hands, but he was stronger than the pair, and ended up drinking the entire bottle in one go. Within minutes, the inappropriate variations of Fiddleford's name began and him laughing hard enough that he nearly threw up the alcohol several times that night. He endured hell the next morning, being horribly hungover, but he thought it was worth it. He paused in his laughter for a moment, as Dipper continued to speak to his best friend. "One night...Mabel...Mabel and me were coming back, after hanging out with Wendy, and he had spent five hours hiding underneath the cupboards in the kitchen, to scare us, but he ended up getting stuck, and we had to call the police, because we couldn't get him out ourselves."

As Fiddleford began to chuckle, Gideon covering his mouth to stifle his own giggles, Stan's laughs died off, and he glared menacingly at his grand-nephew. Dipper's smile dropped, staring in silent horror, as Stan slid his index finger across his own throat, threatening him. The brunet knew a punishment would be received later, for breaking his promise of never telling the story to anyone, and needed to fix his mistake immediately. "Ohhhh, I just remembered, that was a dream! That didn't actually happened! Yep, totally not real!"

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang, silencing them all. Fiddleford nodded to the younger pair, as he lifted a suitcase, that had been placed by the front door an hour prior, full of the meager items he possessed at the moment. "Well, that's likely Tate...it's been a pleasure to be able to discuss the supernatural with someone that actually wishes to, Dipper."

"I kind of know the feeling. Mabel never got all excited to talk about the journal, like I can with you, Mr. McGucket." Dipper replied, stepping forward to receive a brief hug from the elder man.

Fiddleford frowned and released the 13-year-old. "Dipper...did we...did we...by any chance, did we ever go to the local museum together?"

The younger Pines' eyes widened, realizing he didn't remember the trip to the museum, when they had defeated the Society of the Blind Eye. He stared beyond Fiddleford, making eye contact with his great-uncle. Should he mention what had occurred? The elder Pines shook his head and Dipper bit his lip, before replying. "We went once, because you thought you had worked there, before you remembered."

"Oh...hmmm, I don't seem quite able to recall that. Did anything unfortunate occur?"

"No. You just kept staring at stuff and muttering at yourself." Dipper lied automatically.

The ex-curator shrugged after a moment. "Well, no matter. It must of not have been too imperative to remember then."

"Guess not..."

The elder man turned to Gideon, taking note of the shy expression he received to his gaze. He squatted down, joints creaked in protest, in order to be eye-level with the 11-year-old. "It was a pleasure to meet you-well, meet you as Fiddleford McGucket, and not Old Man McGucket. I hope to see you in the future as well, Gideon."

Gideon felt a blush dust his cheeks, embarrassed by his past actions to him. The freckled boy was aware that he treated several citizens rudely, as his time being influenced by Jill Rephic. It seemed as though the elder man had forgiven him, at least for what he had remembered of him. He supposed that would be enough though and nodded at Fiddleford. "I-It was good t-to m-meet you, t-too, M-Mr. M-McGucket..."

He pulled himself up, turning to Stan, a feeling of confidence welling up inside him. He extended his hand, to shake Stan's. "Thank you, Stanford, for allowing me to momentarily live in t-"

"Seriously? We're long past that, Fiddles, come here." Stan rolled his eyes, bringing him in for a crushing hug, as Fiddleford released a gasp of surprise at the movement.

Fiddleford felt himself relax, wrapping his arms around his friend's back. He thought about the last time he had seen his friend, but it seemed to be filled with a haze of fog. He could remember working in a convenience store, after becoming too unstable to be the museum's curator, and that there was a brief arugement. He felt as though pieces were missing in his mind. He decided to focus on the last embrace he had with his friend, before their friendship fell apart. Stan had been screaming in the middle of the library at a stranger, when he came along with him, so he could do research on supernatural events. The man, appearing Hispanic, had been quite alarmed when Stan began spewing Spanish at him. Fiddleford had learned a few phrases and words, in order to understand what Stan would say, during his...episodes? Flashbacks? He had never been sure what they had been, but he had gotten used to them after awhile. Fiddleford had to forcefully remove his friend from the library and when they had gotten into his car, he had completely broken down. Fiddleford hugged him, the last time he had seen an episode, until Stan had returned to his senses. This hug though, wasn't full of desperation, but full of care from him. "Thank you, Stan."

"Your welcome, Fiddleford," They pulled apart and Stan finally swung open the door. Tate impatiently stood on the porch, arms crossed over his chest. When he realized the door had been open, he appeared hesitant. The elder Pines nodded in his direction. "Tate."

"Stan," He nodded back, before observing his father, who had stepped out. "Dad."

"Hello, Tate," Fiddleford bit his lip, before reaching to to touch his son's shoulder, rubbing gently. "You've grown up."

"I grew up a long time ago...though I guess you don't remember." Tate answered, sounded offended, though he didn't shove off the hand. Stan knew from past experience that his best friend's son didn't always mean what he seemed to and he suspected this was one of those moments.

"I...I'm sorry...I, well, I remember trying to talk to you a few times over the years and you being...embarrassed by my behavior, but...the last time I really remember seeing you was when...when you were just a boy." His son finally reached out, embracing his father, in a hug of desperation. He knew it to be desperation, because Stan had clung to him in the same manner before. The only difference was, it was desperation for the years the father and son had missed.

"I'm glad you're back." Tate muttered, hands squeezing the back of the material of his turtleneck.

"I'm grateful to be back." He felt his tears well with tears, as he realized for the first time in years he could finally be to make up the lost years and bond with his grown son. "I-I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad." He muttered back, tears welling in his own eyes.

Stan lingered in the doorway, observing how the pair embraced and the whispering to one another. He reached down to Dipper, tugging on the back of his collar. The brunet appeared surprised, stumbling backwards into him, before glancing upwards. Gideon noticed what had occurred, but seemed to understand before his friend did. Stan jerked a thumb over his shoulder, before Dipper finally understood. The pair nodded and allowed themselves to be ushered inside the Mystery Shack by the elder Pines. Stan had a feeling he wouldn't see Fiddleford for quite awhile after that day.

_~!-?-!~_

Fiddleford had been a momentary distraction, for his anguish he felt in his heart. His brother, the one he had dedicated his entire life to, and his grand-niece, the light of his life, had been brought to the dreamscape, and once they reached the Nightmare Realm, they would succumb to the horrors they faced, and become demons. And he had no way to rescue them by himself. He simply had to await the moment Bill Cipher decided the wheel had reached it's destination and allow them to travel there. In what matter, concerned him the most, but now he had become overcome with despair. "God, Lee, why'd it have to be you?"

He held his face in his hands, fighting the urge to head to the grocery store, and buy himself the strongest whiskey they had. He knew he needed to fight that urge though, or he would head down that dark and dangerous path he had already dragged himself from. He couldn't do that again, especially since Dipper and Gideon needed the elder man to be there for them. Instead, he lifted himself up from his bed, and approached his record player. Stan didn't have the courage to place the needle on the record, that he had already placed there. He did now though, the disc spinning in circles as it played. The beat began, before the familiar words of The Temptations reached his ears. "_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day! __When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May! __I guess you'd say, w__hat can make me feel this way? __My girl, my girl, my girl! __Talkin' 'bout my girl! __My girl!_"

Being around his brother and his best friend after all these years, had brought up the suppressed memories of Carla McCorkle. He had buried them deep, but now that he had no distractions, the memories consumed him. The ache in his heart for the women he loved most, caused him to be torn into pieces. He felt the cry blubber out of his mouth, burning his throat, before he was overwhelmed by sobs. He wanted to stifle them, so the younger ones didn't hear him, but he couldn't. His brother and great-niece might cease to exist, just as Carla McCorkle had two years prior. Stan wept, the memory of his loved one, haunting him, never to be met in reality again. "I-I'm sorry, C-Carla..."

_~!-?-!~_

If either of them had heard him completely fall apart in his bedroom earlier, they didn't mention it. He suspected they did though, as Dipper and Gideon refused to make eye contact with him. He had turned up the music though, to a reasonably high level, to prevent being heard, but perhaps they had only suspected what had occurred, instead of actually hearing. Either way though, he decided he needed to pull himself back together. They had finished up their lunches, the sandwiches and chips gone from their plates, before he decided to speak. "I think it's almost time."

Of course they knew what he was referring to, though they didn't understand how he knew. Stan wasn't confident himself how he did, but he had a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He felt on edge, a sense of warning blaring at him about the danger soon to come. He had been alive long enough to know the meaning behind such a feeling.

"_And, now it is time..._" The trio were startled by the voice in the kitchen, as Bill Cipher appeared in a golden flash. "_Time to complete the rotation._"

"Alright, alright, enough with the theatrics! Just take me to the damn place!" Stan snarled, slamming a hand onto the table, concerned about his family members.

"Grunkle Stan, I'm coming too," Dipper frowned at his great-uncle's suggestion that he would be left behind.

"No, you ain't. That isn't any place for you or Gideon to be near." Stan shook his head.

"I've already been to the dreamscape though! I was in three different ones at once, so I know how it works better than you!"

"H-He..." The Pines' attention was brought to the frightened 11-year-old interrupting the argument, as he began to speak. His skin had gone a shade paler, skin beginning to grow clammy, and they realized how horrified he was about the idea that they would go there. He had a perfect reason as well, considering what he endured. Gideon gulped thickly, before hesitantly continuing on. "D-Dipper k-knows h-how i-it i-is...s-so h-he h-has t-to g-go..."

"I'm not letting either of y-"

"_Enough, Crescent,_" Stan was silenced with a snap of Bill's fingers, producing a heated glare from the elder man. He stood from the table, and stepped forward, as though he were about to give the dream demon a piece of his mind. Dipper's arm on his ceased him from doing so though. Instead, he retreated to his seat, and continued to scowl at Bill, while listening to his words. "_I need all three of you to go to the dreamscape, in order for this to work. I also need to...borrow something from each of you._"

Stan opened his mouth to speak, yet not a single word emerged. Dipper instead spoke the question, obviously on all three of their minds, though not with the amount of suspicion his great-uncle would have had in his tone. "What do you need to borrow?"

"_Blood._"_  
_

Gideon immediately stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own two feet. He released a whimper, sounding as though he was about to completely fall apart in front of Bill. The triangle floated closer, though he ceased movement when Stan stepped in-between them. Bill rolled his eye and snapped his fingers once more. Stan immediately spoke, voice low, nearly a growl. "You stay the hell away from him."

The dream demon ignored his statement though, continuing to speak to Gideon, as though there wasn't a physical barrier between them. "_You've had blood taken before, haven't you? By Jill I would assume._ _She didn't have a exact purpose it seems, judging from your reaction. She always has had a lust for blood and gore..._"

The elder Pines frowned at the crypt words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Grunkle Stan, it's ok," Dipper stepped towards Stan and Gideon. "He needs power, so he can take us there."

"_Very insightful, Pine Tree,_" Bill clapped his hands together. "_Though, it may have to do with our previous exchange for power. Except, that was with your hair. This type of power needed to teleport the four of us into the dreamscape though, requires a higher sacrifice._"

"Kid, you know I don't trust this piece of sh...You know I don't trust Cipher."

"Yeah, I know you don't, but you trust me, don't you?"

Stan immediately nodded. "Of course, Dipper. The trust thing works both ways, you know."

"Then, trust me, when I say we'll be ok."

His great-uncle scowled deeply at the dream demon, before relaxing his stance. He felt a pair of hands grasping at the back of his wife-beater, tugging. He twisted his head around, revealing Gideon's frightened face. He reached down immediately, patting his head. "You're gonna be ok, kiddo. I won't let anything bad happen to you...I'm warning you though, Cipher, if any of us is injured, you'll have to face me."

Bill seemed to be leering at him, as though he found his words amusing, though he didn't comment. Dipper was beside Gideon, reaching for the pudgy hand, which he immediately grasped held of. He squeezed tightly, his palms sweaty. The brunet whispered, coaxing his softly. "Think about Mabel."

Gideon bit his lip, before nodding. "F-For...Mabel."

"_Well, now that you three are in agreement, we can begin,_" Bill floated closer, reaching out to Dipper, and grasped onto his free hand. He turned it over in his own hand, revealing the inside of the brunet's wrist. An index figure was placed on the the most vibrant vein, a stinging sensation blooming, causing Dipper to release a hiss. The hand was dropped, Dipper feeling dizzy from the loss of blood, though not enough to cause him to pass out. "_Most of the sacrifice will be taken from you, as your position makes you one of the most powerful ones on the wheel._"

He turned to Gideon, the other squeezing shut his eyes, as Dipper raised up the trembling hand he held. The dream demon received the hand from Dipper, turning over the wrist, and proceeded to remove the blood from the 11-year-old. Stan cautiously watched on, while Gideon whimpered at the actions being performed. The hand was returned to Dipper, the younger Pines squeezing it gently. Gideon blinked a few times, appearing surprised at how much the procedure hadn't hurt. Finally, Bill approached Stan, the latter's eyes fierce as they stared into the single one. He raised his arm, presented his exposed wrist, before Bill preceded to remove the blood from him. When the action had been performed, the elder man jerked his arm away, not wanting to be in contact longer than necessary. "_And, now we can begin._"

The triangle closed his eye, beginning to glow, becoming a beacon of light. The trio covered their eyes, wincing against the light, their retinas burning from the intensity. The hair on Dipper's arms and the back of his neck rose, a shiver ripping through his very soul. His soul, it felt as though it was being removed-no, it was being detached from his mind, only his mind preparing to enter the dreamscape. A distant ragtime melody echoed around him, "The Entertainer", his memory supplied, eerily in the wind soaring around them, as though a record player was being swept away by a tornado. The colors of the room blurred by him, a buzzing underneath his skin. His skin, he couldn't feel his skin, or his body for that matter. Stars flashed by, voices echoing in his ears, one single one the loudest to him. "_Oh, Bill never enlightened you of our connection, my dear? Oh, Bill, I would of thought you would be more forthcoming towards him, th-_"

Dipper landed harshly, his entire being vibrantly from the impact, feeling as though he had smashed his own face against a brick wall enough times to cause himself to fracture his skull. He opened his eyes, an endless white expanse surrounding him, except for the red dripping steadily onto the floor below. He breathed, a rattling in his lungs, as blood leaked from his mouth and nose. His hands and knees, couldn't feel the floor beneath himself, but he could feel the warmth of his own blood. The 13-year-old lifted his head, revealing an individual towering above him, shimmering with golden illumination, as if the sun was behind him. His blond hair waved gently, as if a wind was breezed through it, his darkly tan skin contrasting significantly with his hair. He was clad in armor, nearly blinding him from the reflective golden light emitting from it. His black cape seemed dark enough, that Dipper wondered if it was the void itself, stars glimmering across it. One of the uncovered eyes bored down at him, pure black, not a pupil to be seen. Though he had never seen the individual in his life, he knew him immediately. "B-Bill?"

A smile, eerily creeped across his face, spread unnaturally wide on him. "_Good morning, Pine Tree._"

_End Chapter 41_

**Andddd, I've returned from my minor hiatus! I had been originally planning to finish off this story a bit earlier, but I had become burnt out from the writing I had to do in college and decided to take a break. I know I need to finish this off though, so I decided to get back to work on it. The next chapter will feature the finale, which I haven't decided if it will be split into two parts, or simply just one. Then, after that will be the epilogue, before Broken Our Mirrors is over. The next chapter will be around much sooner, so keep an eye out! As always reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!  
**


	43. Chapter 42

_Chapter 42  
_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Violence and blood ensue throughout this chapter.  
**

Dipper dragged his eyes away from Bill Cipher, upon the realization that he didn't know where his great-uncle and friend were. He pushed himself up, onto his knees, twisting his head around, before seeing Grunkle Stan to his left. He seemed to be rousing himself up, blinking groggily, blood dripping down his face. He appeared momentarily alarmed, rubbing the liquid from his chin, and staring at his tarnished hand. His eyes finally focused on his grand-nephew and his face morphed into concern. He suspiciously eyed the now human Bill Cipher, before fully facing the 13-year-old. "Dipper, you hurt?"

"I-I don't know..." He mumbled, using his own t-shirt to wipe the blood off his face.

"_Perhaps I used up too much blood from the pair of_ _you...Though it may of also been from the change of existence you occupy at the moment,_" Bill studied his nails for a second, before he gazed about the endless white expanse surrounding him. "_No matter though, since it seems like you both are alright._"

"Gideon?" Stan brought himself onto shaky legs, slightly dizzy from the lose of blood, heading over to the unconscious freckled boy. He didn't awaken though, as the elder man crouched down beside him, patting at his cheek. He finally twisted his head around, scowling at the dream demon. His voice came out low and accusing. "What's wrong with him, Cipher?"

If the dream demon was surprised by Stan knowledge of who he was, despite his change in appearance, he gave no indication. "_His mind isn't quite as strong as your's and Pine Tree's, so his he has to adjust to the change, in order for him to be opened to the dreamscape._"

Though he didn't appear reassured, he didn't question further. Dipper observed Bill, as he waved a hand at the Pines, the blood vanishing from them. He frowned, wondering the meaning behind the outfit. He had always assumed if the triangle became a human, he would be gravitated towards tuxes or at least a classy type of style. The only familiar piece he wore, was his to phat. "What are you wearing?"

"_My armor. Dream demons are naturally clad in a protective shield, to prepare themselves for a number of...situations. It's not made of real material though. It's more along the lines of a illusion, that represents my powers. I could change my appearance, though I prefer to be ready for when Jill makes herself known._"

"Seems over-dramatic if you ask me..." The elder Pines mumbled, rolling his eyes.

_"Ah, yes, heartwarming as usual, Cresent. I'll make you be thankful for me one of these days, grumpypants."_

"What the hell did you just call m-?" He nearly rose, appearing furious by the new nickname.

"What is this place?" Dipper interrupted, preventing a fight to break out in the worse moment.

"_The dreamscape, before it's affected by an individual's presence. When prev-_" Bill cut himself off, a dark sword appearing out of thin air his hands, and whirled around.

The sword clashed with white one, a hissing echoing around them, lights flashing blindingly for a moment in their eyes. When the lights cleared slightly, Jill Rephic was revealed to be in front of him, clad in a glimmering armor, a glowing bluish hue. Her pure white cape fluttered behind her, with sparkling stars swaying around. Her hair floated behind her, length spread out in the same manner as the room, lips spread into a gentle smile. "_Hello, Bill._"

"O-Oh..." Gideon gasped beside Stan, eyes wide from the spot he was laid out on, apparently awake. If the elder man wasn't so startled at the clashing of the swords and the ringing echo in his ears, he would of comforted the now frightened 11-year-old. The background began to be filled in, as though someone was beginning to paint across a canvas. A forest gradually began to appear, trees spread out in vastness, though they weren't reminiscent of the ones Dipper had in his mind. His had been pine trees, reminding him of the forest in Gravity Falls, filled with thickening morning fog. The trees surrounding them though...He wasn't confident of what type they were, they appeared thickened though, snow gently falling upon the mounds already created. A frigid air was felt, the breath of the the trio's mouth being visible.

"_Hello, Jill...appropriate, that you would chose this scenery._" Bill replied, before the pair dropped their swords from one another, holding beside themselves.

"_Well, it is where it all began, my darling,_" Her eyes darted to the trio, lingering for an inappropriate amount of time on Gideon, who now was sat up, staring with horror at her. As her smile expanded, a cold sweat began, despite the weather. "_It's been far too long, Giddy._"

"You don't talk to him!" Stan growled, covering the child from view from her.

Jill sneered momentarily, face becoming gruesome and unnatural, before the expression dropped a split second later. It was as though it had never occurred in the first place, though Stan knew better. Though the soft expression had regained, her voice came out disgusted, as though she regarded a thriving insect. "_What a shame, that you are still in existence._"

"Where are they?" Bill silenced Stan, with a slice of his hand, before he could utter a word in reply.

"_Who, darling? You'll have to be a bit more specific._" She fluttered her eyelashes.

"_Playing coy, is hardly becoming of you. You know precisely who I'm talking about._"

"_Oh, I suppose you mean Shooting Star and Fingers. They are unharmed, obviously, though it won't be long before they arrive to the entrance of the Nightmare Realm. They won't be nearby, fairly soon, dear._"

"_You've broken several different rules, especially with the intervention of another's wheel._"

"_Father's silly rules? The same ones, that prevented me from rising to my rightful place? Why, I don't see any reason to actually follow them. Besides, you've already broken quite a few of your own._"

He narrowed his eye. "_Only to fix your own._"

"_And, that makes all the difference? Tell me, did it make the difference, when we were together?_" The suggestive words, had Stan feeling nauseated at the aspect of two different dream demons being involved in such a way.

"_This isn't about that and you know that. This is about fixing my wheel, the one you had no right to intrude on. I've waited 863 years for this movement and you decided to take it upon yourself to mess around!_" His composure seemed to leave him and for the first time the elder Pines witnessed him seeming flustered with speaking to her.

"_I waited 1,045 years patiently and I received nothing!_" She hissed, lifting her sword over her head, before bringing it down on Bill.

He lifted his own sword, protecting his face for the collision, sparks hissing around their faces. "_You know exactly why you received nothing!_"

She jerked her sword away, twirling in a circle, and went to slash her weapon across his chest. He twirled, much as she did, out of the way from the weapon. A beat later, he was jabbing the sword at her leg, causing her to scream angrily at the painful contact. He twisted his head around, bellowing at the trio. "_Find the cabin! The entrance to other dreamscapes, will be in the center of this one!_"

Dipper was on his feet in an instant, while Stan assisted Gideon in standing. The 13-year-old glanced frantically over his shoulder at his is great-uncle and friend. He belting across the landscape, knowing that they would hot on his trail, in search of the center of the dreamscape with him. Jill kicked Bill in chest with her heeled shoe, while he stared after the trio, causing him to stumble back, and fall over. His single eye widened, as she lifted the blade once more over her head, before flinging it across the landscape, and at Dipper. The sword barely missed him, stabbing into a tree, centimeters in front of him. His shirt silenced open, a horrified gasp leaving his lips. "DIPPER!"

Stan had screamed his name, dashing through the snow to his grand-nephew. The sword vibrated violently, before flying back in Jill's grip, as Bill hoped to his feet, stabbing at her leg once more. She elbowed him in the sternum, with her free arm, roaring of her voice echoing through the trees. He bent over with a gasp, before she elbowed him once more, this time on the top of his head. Bill was brought to his knees, winded, the sword nearly dropping from his grasp. The elder Pines grabbed his grand-nephew's shoulder from behind, whirling him around, the find his revealing chest to be unharmed. He breathed out a sigh of relief, before pushing him forward. "We need to get out of the clearing, now!"

Gideon had caught up to them, heaving with breaths, before the trio sprinted out of the clearing. It seemed as though the battle would follow them though, as Jill flew through the air, colliding with several trees, causing several to timber over, propelling snow everywhere. Gideon and Dipper felt the snow shift insanely beneath them, the pair stumbling, as their footing was lost, down a slope. Jill stood from the snow, heaving, eyes bright with anger. She stabbed her weapon at Bill, as he appeared in front of her, impaling him straight through his stomach. Stan stared in shock at the scene, a golden liquid oozing from Bill's body. He ripped the handle from her hold, before tearing it out of his own stomach. Now wielding two swords, he went to slice her head off, but she kicked him in the face, golden blood spraying across the snow. Stan couldn't think of anything to say, expect two words. "Holy shit..."

He snapped his self out of his surprise and sprinted down a slanted slope, to the reach the children. When he arrived to them, they were assisting one another to stand, while he quickly glanced over his shoulder at the fight. He could barely view the details of their battle, but the glow of their bodies glinted in his direction. He turned back, finding them patting snow off of themselves. "I don't know how the hell he expects us to find anything here, but we need to hurry up, kids!"

Gideon breathing came out shaken, staring with shock at the fight. His voice came out hesitant and meek. "I-I'm s-scared..."

Stan reached out for his shoulder, rubbing a thumb into his flesh. "Hey, everything is gonna be fine, ok?"

"G-Grunkle Stan, I-I..." Dipper's broke off into a series of heavy breaths, beginning to edge towards a hyperventilation.

Stan reached out to touch the 13-year-old's cheek, staring him the eyes. "You're fine, we're fine. Everything is gonna be alright, just like I told Gideon. I won't anything happen to either of you."

"Well, that's not a promise you can keep!" Dipper snarled at him, face abruptly altering itself. He was startled for a beat, before Stan realized he wasn't dealing with the same grand-nephew he usually did.

"I know, Jason, but I'm gonna try my best." He confidently answered.

Jason scowl melted, an action he had never witnessed before. Though there was not a smile, it seemed as though he had been appeased by the answer. He closed his eyes, tilting his head, as though listening. Finally, he opened them, and pointed to the left. "The center's there. We're heading in the right direction and probably find it soon."

"How do you know that?"

"The same way Dipper does; he can hear echoes, explaining what is needed to be explained. We don't have time for this though. If we don't hurry, Rephic will have another chance to nearly impale my body," He raised his voice, as a roaring reaching their ears. They all turned, to see the body of Bill Cipher being hurtled roughly in their direction. They all dropped to the snow, the body gliding over them, and crashing tremendously into a tree. The dream demon pulled himself from the half dismantled tree, his sword missing, and seeming dazed. Jason was the first to stand, as Jill Rephic flew in their direction as well, tightly grasping her own weapon. He scrambled to grab the black sword from the snow a few feet in front of him, lifting it in front of his body. His hands trembled, clearly apprehensive at defending himself with the weapon, and it became apparent Dipper had returned. "NO!"

As Jill slashed her sword at Dipper's, Bill came up from behind. The younger Pine's body was now pressed up against his chest, causing him to flinch at the contact. If the physical support hadn't been there, he was sure the power of the female dream demon would of overwhelmed him. His anxiety flared at the thought, aware his mind wouldn't have survive what happened, if it wasn't for Bill. He was frozen in place, fear overwhelming him, as Jill was within and inch from his own face. She beamed at him, voice coming out teasing. "_Hello, little Pine Tree. You're quite a brave one, aren't you? Just as Bill had been._"

"_Jill, he isn't anything I was and you know that._" He felt the gloved hands push his own down to the bottom of the hilt, before they slid off, the ownership of the weapon returned to the dream demon.

"_Hmm, perhaps you're right...Shooting Star is more as you were, now that I think about it,_" She pushed onto his blade, Bill's own sword nearly pressed backwards on to Dipper's frightened face, cradled around Bill's arms. That didn't mean he felt safe though, Dipper thought this was the worst position to be in the moment, especially when he knew these swords to cause more damage than normal ones. She noticed this, a type of insane glee spread across her face. "_I wonder what would happen, if this blade were to touch a human._"

"..._Pine Tree, it's time for you to leave._" He whispered, voice on edge.

Dipper slipped out from the arms around him, touching down to the snow beneath him. He crawled underneath Bill's legs, towards the others, who had just started to rose themselves from the ground. He sprinted towards them, grasping Gideon's hand, and started to run for his life. Stan followed, them beginning to sprint ahead of them by a foot, as trees flew by them. In the distance, a cabin appeared, causing them to push themselves to sprint faster. The cabin, appeared ancient, though most it was too buried in snow, to properly see how much it was. They rushed onto the porch, Stan grasping the handle of the front door. He frowned, tugging at it. "Piece of shit won't budge open!"

" _WE HIDE WHAT WE FEAR MOST, CRESCENT!_" A voice rang out from the forest, Jill emerged, her wounds oozing a hue of her own armor. Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint evident in them. She was willing to murder them where they stand, in order to keep Mabel and Stanley for herself. "_Beyond that door, is fear!_ _You thought this was only my dreamscape? This is **our** dreamscape! Bill and I have our own, due to the connection we possess!_"

"_Shut up!_" Bill snarled, as he appeared from behind her. His shoulders heaved, as golden blood poured down the left half of his face.

"C-Connection?" Dipper stuttered out, as Stan began to repetitively smash his shoulder against the door, in order to open it.

"_Oh, Bill never enlightened you of our connection, my dear? Oh, Bill, I would of thought you would be more forthcoming towards him, the connection that binds us, despite our deaths. Our connection, Pine Tree? Our connection is that Bill Cipher was my father!_" Jill screamed out, as Stan splintered open the door, the hinges coming undone. As the door fell apart, the inside of the building was seen for the entire world. A deformed sight was beheld, Stan's eyes huge, as he realized they were the same exact creatures he fought off with his brother in the pocket dimension. They were what had given the claw injuries to Stanley, slashing violently to the skin. _  
_

As Gideon released a scream of horror at the sight. Bill spun in a circle, throwing the sword across the distance, narrowly missing Stan's head, and stabbing into the creature's side. It dropped, blackish blood gurgling from it's mouth, and began to convulse. It died before the trio's eyes, Dipper feeling as though he were about to release the contents of his stomach. Jill lashed out her blade at him, stabbing him in the heart. He froze, grasping at the hilt she held, tears of fury welling up in her eyes. She leaned in closer to him, her lips bared back as she spoke. "_Father, will see what a beautiful change I have produced and grant me my own wheel!"_

The blade was wrenched out, blood flung onto her own face. Bill cringed, obviously pained by the action, though he didn't appear to close to death. He was definitely weakened though and Stan realized this was their chance. He ushered the frozen Gideon and hyperventilating Dipper into the cabin, glancing around for their entrance. At first, he though the cabin didn't have one, until he focused on a symbol spattered across the wall, created by the blackish blood of the now dead creature behind them. He didn't quite understand how the symbol was created, yet he approached it anyways. He poked at it, his fingers returning as a sticky substance. He frowned in disgust. He was surprised at the sudden movement beside him. Dipper had dropped to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest, and covered his hands over his ears. He wasn't hyperventilating, but Stan knew that he was in a type of panic attack, one that caused him to be overwhelmed with fear. Gideon was on the verge of tears, his arms wrapped around himself, twisting his head around to witness the battle outside. He needed to remove them from the situation immediately, for their mental sake. He was beginning to feel dazed himself, as though he wasn't quite there in the dreamscape, but watching from afar. "Ok, so how this work?"

The sword that been previously in the creature's body, floated by itself from it, levitating in the air. He gaped at him, suddenly noticing it was heading in his direction. It hovered before him and Gideon was momentarily distracted at the sight, the tears no longer on the edge of falling. Stan cautiously reached out, taking hold of the hilt, and scratching the back of his head with his free arm. "What the hell do I do with this?"

The blade trembled in his hands, tugging him forward, towards the symbol. "Alright, alright, I get it! I don't really know why you wanna be touching it, but I'm guessing it's gonna lead us to other dreamscapes?"

There was an explosion of wood behind him, causing him to flinch violently at the sudden noise. Dust and snow blew into the air. He whirled around, discovering Bill Cipher to be laid out across the remains of a wooden table, breathing raggedly. Jill emerged from the doorway, tossing her weapon back and forth, between each hand. A slash on her cheek, bleed viciously, appearing distorted from her grinning face. Stan cursed, tapping to sword against the symbol, though nothing occurred. "God dammit, do something!"

Yet, everything remained the same, and for once he found himself looking desperately to Bill. He was motionless, his single eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. Gideon backed away as Jill approached, nearly tripping over Dipper. He realized this wouldn't end well. She was much more powerful than him, so using the sword would hardly put any type of resistance against her. He lifted the blade though, standing in front of his grand-nephew and adopted ward, in a last ditch effort to protect them. She paused in front of them, the weapon now in her left hand, a smirk present on her face. "_It seems as though I don't have to burdened with such a presence any longer, for which I'm grateful._"

His eyes widened, as she lifted her blade, it glowing a bluish hue, as power was poured into it. He didn't stand a chance, so he closed his eyes, glad he didn't have to hear his loved ones dying, for he would be the first. There was silence surrounding him, when a voice echoing throughout his mind, though it wasn't quite one. It was a mixture of a feeling and words compelling him to do what he did next. His eyes snapped out and he whirled around. He raised the black sword above his head and stabbed the symbol with as much strength as he could muster. Within the split second he had done so, darkness swallowed him whole, and he lost consciousness. The last noise he heard with the roar of his enemy, shattering his ear drums.

_~!-?-!~_

His hand burned, as though flames licked at his flesh. Flesh? He didn't have flesh, he didn't have flesh, he didn't have flesh. He didn't have a body. Who...Who was he? Who was he?_ Who was he? WHO WAS_ _HE? _Was he even a he? Was he even a person? His hand burned, his heart burned. Flames licked at his heart, burning him viciously. There's never ending darkness, the opposite of the never ending white he had seen before. ? When did he...see...white...? His hand burned, his heart burned...he sensed...more burning? Not from himself though, it felt as though flames were outside himself. He felt the burning, yearning for him to draw near. His other half. The burning led him to his other half. Other half? Who was his other half? Did he even have one? He moved, without moving himself, his mind seemed to do so. He glided, the wind howling through him, faster, and faster. The burning seemed to subside, ebbing away, as though an ocean had washed over his senses. His hand, his heart, and the outside no longer burned.

"Stanford?"

Stan opened his eyes.

_End Chapter 42_

**Yes, I'm already back and I know it's only been three days (a miracle it seems!). I honestly was excited to write out this chapter though and I have roughly two weeks before I started school, so I thought I should do this while I have the time. And, I did decide to split the finale into two parts. I also apologize if the fight scenes were confusing to read. I really did try my best. I believe that's all that's necessary to explain for the moment, so now for the notes for the chapter. Obviously Bill can change himself into a human, just as Jill has exhibited in previous chapters. The dreamscape they occupied was a mixture of Jill's and Bill's due to their connection they shared as humans. It was meant to be from their memories, when they lived in a cabin in the forest. The aging is off due to a specific reason, which is similar to the Doctor's age from Doctor Who. Dream demons have the capability to travel through time. Jill has simply traveled more than Bill has. Each dream demon is granted a "wheel of destiny", though Jill has never been granted one. Usually they've are told they have a wheel, which will begin to move in a certain year. Bill's year was 2012, which is when this story is set in, as the first episode was in that year. I view the swords as an extension of their powers, put into the form of a sword. They are more powerful than a normal one and can actually kill a human with a simple touch. As always favorites, followers, and reviews are appreciated!  
**


	44. Chapter 43

_Chapter 43  
_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Violence and blood ensue throughout this chapter.**

Before Stan had opened his eyes, the sound of waves reached his ears. They gushed and roared along the shore, his now open eyes observing the familiar sight. Seagulls screeched from above, swooping down to fetch fish from the ocean. The sun glistened upon the waves and blinded him from the cloudless sky. The water reached his shoes, though he couldn't feel it, and he knew it to be the warm liquid that used to be felt in his childhood. The beach. His childhood beach. Glass Shard Beach was laid out before him. He turned around, coming face-to-face with his twin brother. He appeared to be made of glass, though he contained swirling water inside his body, beating against his insides as the shore behind Stan did. "Lee?"

He expected Stanley to be grateful for his presence, yet he appeared panicked instead. "What are you doing here?!"

The elder man scowled in reply, momentarily forgetting the relief he had felt a moment before. He rolled his eyes. "To save your ass."

"What? No, you ca-!"

"Grunkle Stan?!" His brother was interrupted by the cry of his grand-niece, sprinting across the sand to him. The water inside her translucent form sloshed violently, as though a storm had begun. When she collided into him, he cringed, imagining her body shattering into pieces. Of course, that didn't occur though, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

"It's good to see you, kid," Stan wrapped his arms back around her, squeezing her shoulders tenderly, feeling a lump in his throat. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Mabel replied back, her voice sounding muffled against him.

The pair released one another and he observed his brother's eyes swiveling around. He seemed as though he was cautious of his surroundings, fearful of what would occur next. He stepped forward, reaching to him, before engulfing him in an embrace. He breathed in, smelling the familiar scents of Stanley. Though he couldn't feel the arms wrapping back around him, he could sense warmth inside him. Tears welled in his eyes. "I thought I lost you, again."

"Stanford...I..." His brother pulled away, frowning. "Did you come here by yourself?"

Stan's heart immediately dropped and he whirled around. He realized he didn't know where the children where, nor the sword he had held. He stepped away, observing the shoreline, before squinting his eyes. He approached the water, beginning to trudge into the waves, ignoring the calls of his relatives. When the water reached his hips, he grasped onto the handle of a sword, barely sticking out of the ocean. He tugged at it a few times, before tearing into out of the sand. He stumbled back a few feet, then he lifted it to his face. It appeared normal, the flames that had licked him earlier not to be seen. He headed back to the shore, observing the flabbergasted expression on Stanley's face. "Wha-?"

"Is that a sword?!" Mabel's face lite up at the sight of the weapon.

"Yeah, it's uh, Cipher's." Stan explained, still feeling weird about the entirety of the situation.

"Bill's?" Stanley appeared more confused than before.

"Yeah, that's not important though. I don't know where Dipper and Gideon went off to though."

"You brought them with you?!" His twin exclaimed, appearing furious. "How could you be so irresponsible!?"

"Irresponsible?! What the he-" Stan cut off his furious beginnings, as he finally spotted a familiar body far down the shoreline. He sprinted away automatically, the sword swinging beside him, sand flying as his shoes pounded against the ground. "DIPPER!"

The 13-year-old was dragging himself from the ocean, the waves soaking him thoroughly. His hands scrambled through the sand, attempting to find purchase. When Stan arrived, he dropped the sword to the ground, pulling his grand-nephew roughly from the waves, and roughly shaking his shoulders. Dipper appeared dazed and bewildered, his own hands clinging to the front of Stan's button-up. "Kid, kid, are you ok?!"

"...y-yeah...stop...stop shaking m-me, pl...please..." He mumbled and Stan immediately complied. "Where...are w-we?"

"Uh, Glass Shard Beach...it was next to where me and Stanley lived. It's...I think we're in my dreamscape though?"

"It was Mabel's and my own, but it seems as though we're inside your's now, Stanford." Stanley appeared behind the pair, observing the row of buildings on the opposite side of the dreamscape.

"This...Grunkle Stan's looked different though," Mabel interrupted, appearing confused at her surroundings. "it was the Mystery Shack before...and there wasn't any color."

"Odd...perhaps this..." Stanley trailed off, deep in thought.

Stan felt there were more important questions to ask though. "How come we don't look like you and Mabel?"

His twin snapped out of his thoughts and explained the situation. "Your souls aren't here, like how our's are. Are your minds here?"

"Yeah."

"Your mind can't be affected by the dreamscape, as a soul can be. More importantly though, where is Gideon?" There seemed to be no answer for this, as they realized nothing else was along the shoreline. "Right, well, why exactly do you have a sword that belongs to Bill Cipher?"

"I had to use it to get here, though it's a kinda fuzzy on how exactly I did after stabbing a wall in a forest. I don't really know how long it's gonna take for Rephic to show up though."

"She was here with u-" Stanley cut himself off, frowning. "Does anyone else here that?"

The four of them turned to the ocean, finding the water to be miles further away than before, rising into a massive wave in the distance. There was a brief pause, before Stan picked up Dipper, turned, and began to run towards the row of buildings. Mabel and Stanley immediately followed suite, running from the tsunami. The roaring increased, masking the screaming they were all releasing, as the tidal wave began it's descent. They scrambled over the hump of sand, onto the sidewalk, running uphill, as they went into the town. Stan paused, whirling around, as he realized he left behind the sword. A hand spun him around, Stanley attempting to yell at him. He shook his head, continuing his run, as Dipper tried to scream something at his face. There was a massive crashing noise behind them, shaking the entire dreamscape. They pushed themselves to the top of the hill, turning around to watch the waves. The entire lower half of the town was flooded, houses crumbling, and drifting away. "Holy shit...it's...rising..."

"It's the Nightmare Realm," Stanley breathed out, backing away from the water edging over the hill they were at. Stan set down Dipper, feeling his stomach twist into knots, wondering where Gideon was. He prayed to whoever listened that the 11-year-old hadn't been down there. His brother turned away, shaking his head. "We need to go further away."

"What about Gideon?" Mabel's eyebrows furrowed, the ocean inside of her beginning to churn with anxiousness.

"We'll find him, Mabel. I promise." Stan assured her, placing a hand onto her shoulder.

"What if he's...?"

"I'm sure he's fine, sweetheart. The dreamscape is a strange place, which suggests he might of not been done on the beach in the first place. Chances are he's hiding away, somewhere in town. It's only a matter of locating him." Stanley comforted her, knowing she needed to be reassured. He only hoped they could locate the freckled boy, before the female dream demon returned.

She seemed to become less anxious though, the ocean inside her becoming calm and serene, as she nodded to these words. "I wish we knew where he was though."

"Mabel..." Dipper was frowning, biting his lip.

"Dip-Dop?"

"You don't...?"

"What?"

"Don't you see anything? I just heard..."

"Did you hear Gideon?"

"Ye...no...no, it wasn't him, it was...is that Bill's sword?" Dipper stared beyond the rest of his family, to a row of houses in the distance. When the other Pines whirled around to the direction he suggested, revealing the weapon to be stabbed into the road's asphalt, a couple of feet away. The golden hilt glistened underneath the summer sun, causing it to appear to have a glow surrounding the sword.

"Wait, b-but I left...h-how in the...what the hell?" Stan spluttered out, squinting at it.

His twin narrowed his eyes. "If you ask me, this seems to be...off."

Mabel's gasp startled the other three, her eyes glazing over, as she placed her hands over her mouth. "GRAB THE SWORD!"

"Mabel, this could be a tra-" Stanley began, perturbed by her sudden reaction, yet he never finished his sentence, as another sword was stabbed at Stan from behind. His twin released a yelp of agony, the blade embedding into the back of his left shoulder, blood immediately oozing out of the wound. There was an ear-shattering screech that echoed throughout the dreamscape, the background becoming a static, as though they were watching the wrong channel of a television station. After a few moments, the background returned to the town of Glass Shard Beach. "Stanford!"

He had barely released his name, when his brother fell to his knees. Jill Rephic heaved furiously behind him, face twisted into the darkest expression he had yet to view, feeling a shudder of fright strike him. She lifted her sword high into the air, intending on bringing it down into his head, causing a lasting brain damage. The mind. His brother's mind was here and a blow such as that, could possibly cause immediate death. He couldn't move though, horrified at what was about to occur. When he realized his grand-niece was in-between the pair, arms spread wide to protect Stan, his heart stopped. The sword remained in the air though, Jill's face melting into a kind expression. "_Pumpkin, would you perhaps move aside?_"

"No." Mabel defiantly answered, not an ounce of fear to be seen, her horror of the dream demon faded away finally. When Jill didn't receive the answer she desired though, she swatted her aside, with the invisible force of the flick of her hand. Mabel lurched sideways, gliding through the air, before dropping down onto the ground. Her body laid out, immobile, was what finally sent a surge of action into him. When he whirled around, intending on sprinting to the sword, he was surprised to come face-to-face with it instead. Had it been that close before? Stanley knew he didn't have enough time to linger on the thought, considering the situation, and ripped it violently from the asphalt. He whirled back around, his brother on his hands and knees, revealed to him. He dry heaved, the background flickering in and out of existence. Jill hadn't returned to present the finishing blow though, instead studying him, as he held Bill's sword.

"_Hand, you're the first one I chose to be mine. You wouldn't possibly consider betraying me, as Shooting Star has?_"

"I never was and never will be your's!" He snarled, lifting the sword in front of his own body.

"_Oh, but you are, darling, and always will be,_" She answered, not bothering to lift up her own, as he approached her. "_And, no one, whenever that is Bill Cipher, or even Father, will halt me from keeping what belongs to myself._"

"_Unfortunately, that's where you're wrong, Jill,_" The voice grasped both of their attention, as Bill stepped in-between the the pair, facing towards his daughter. "_I have been informed, of your attempts to disrupt the other wheels, and those destined to them. While the others hadn't been allowed to interfere, Father gave me explicit instructions to end your disruptions._"

"_Your past actions had made it that I no longer can believe any relayed information from Father. This wouldn't be the first time you have lied, in order to receive what you desire. It's how you made me believe you cared for me, despite what seemed to be the contrary, in our human lives._"

Bill's face hardened, eye darkening. "_I was foolish, to believe my love your you then, could change your mind, Jill. I truly did care for you, but that was ruined, when you left._"

"_I only left, because you murdered our mother!_" She snarled back, baring her razor sharp teeth.

The display didn't seem to disturb the male dream demon in the least, as he face further softened. "_She needed it._"

"_She needed you to strangle her, until the blood vessels in her eyes popped, and she bled out from her eyes, ears, and mouth? I watched every moment of it and when you had finished her, you...do you remember what you had said? Do you? You told me, that I wouldn't have to 'suffer at her hands anymore'. She had never struck me, once in my life! No once had she laid a hand on me. She had been gentle and loving and you...you lied to her. You pretending you cared about her and in the end you murdered in her cold blood!_"_  
_

Stanford was becoming increasingly confused and sickened at the words being exchanged. He had made the connection by this point, that they had been parent and child, yet he couldn't quite grasp the meaning. "_I did what had to be done._"

Jill continued on, as though she hadn't heard, a smile stretched across her lips. "_Only...Only, I understood what you felt, when I first had taken a life, though not in the manner you had. The first time, when I sliced open her throat, oh, I received such a sense of accomplishment at the action. When she gurgled out her thankfulness, I felt such righteous completion. I finally understood, what you had meant, about Father. I helped these...poor souls, move on! And, I only understood Father, once I completed the action, and my eyes were blown wide open!_"

"_Then, you shouldn't hold any grudges against me, if you understand._"

_"Oh, but I have to. I did all of what Father told me to do, yet he chose you. You lived with regret, while I lived with passion,YET HE CHOSE **YOU** INSTEAD!_" Her hair flared, bursting into a a fury of golden fire, as she screamed the final words.

_"You needed balance, Jill, but instead you only went head first into the darkness! You were supposed to have a balance between both sides, yet you only chose one in the end! This was explained to you, the moment you were reborn, yet you ignored this! And, now you've gone too far, and you have to be punished!_" Bill bellowed back, losing his cool, and exploding at his daughter._  
_

"_I was perfect and he chose you instead. I'll make him proud though, when I gather together my own wheel. Hand, he made realize I could do this! Darling, you opened my eyes to what had to be done, so I could make Father proud!_" She directed the end of her sentence to Stanley, smiling tenderly at him, nearly grateful. The sword in his hands trembled, realizing before she voiced it aloud the truth. "_And, I love you for that._"

He dropped the sword, backing away, eyes wide. Jill Rephic was obsessed with him, because she was in love with him. A dream demon, who had attempted to murder his family members multiple times, was in love with him. His throat felt dry, stomach empty, sickened at the truth. The next words Bill Cipher spoke, startled him further. "_You've broken another rule then...just as I had..._"

Her sword rose into the air, before whirling around, flinging her weapon at Stan. His brother didn't even look up, as the blade throttled towards him, the finishing blow. Bill though, he was across the dreamscape within a second, blocking the blade, as it stabbed into his left thigh, leg buckling underneath him, crumbling to the ground. Stan flinched, glancing over at the fallen dream demon, before beginning to painfully crawl away. Jill Rephic removed the sword from him, as he began to his attempts to stand. She shoved him back down, before stabbing him in the chest. She tore it out once more, before proceeding to stab over and over and over, again, with the only sight that Stanley could view from where he stood, was golden blood soaking his body. He snapped himself out of it, sprinting over to his struggling twin. "Stanford!"

A hand grabbed at the back of his collar, dragging him backwards. He was whirled back around, despite his struggles, before Jill grasped his jaw with one hand. As she did so, he cringed, disgust overwhelming his senses. "_You're not leaving, EVER AGAIN!_" His eyes drifted to behind her, noticing movement. At first he thought it was Bill, but he realized it was Dipper and Gideon (Where did the freckled boy appear from?). The pair sprinted between each of the houses, edging closer to them. When they reached Bill's sword, Dipper picked it up, before they hid behind another house. He refocused his eyes back onto the female dream demon, who frowned at him. "_Darling, what are you staring at?_"

"N-Nothing..."

She twisted her head around, eyes narrowing as she observed the buildings behind her. Her lips twisted into a smirk, releasing a singing voice. "_Pine Tree...Giddy...come out, come out, where ever you are_!" The moment she finished speaking, Gideon appeared. His legs trembled, as he approached her, appearing frightened by his actions. Stanley knew he was meant to be a distraction, despite his fear. Stanley knew the 11-year-old had been abused his entire life, yet he was now brave enough to face one of his biggest fears in his life. "_You're such a good child, Giddy...Now, where's Pine Tree?_"

Stanley bit her hand, causing her to momentarily release his jaw. A moment was able that was needed, as he ducked down, somersaulting underneath her spread legs, to escape from her. He doubted it had pained her, but it served as a distraction to reach his brother. He squatted next to his brother, pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder, frowning as he realized it was actually water. Sea water. His blood had become sea water, just as his transparent form had sea water inside. This wouldn't physically harm his brother, but he hypothesized that this injury could be to the equivalent of brain damage. "Stanford, are you alright?"

His brother didn't answer, eyes shut, and violently quivering. He glanced up, observing Jill Rephic, as she glared hatefully along the street of buildings, attempting to locate Dipper. Gideon was no longer anywhere to be seen, possibly back into hiding. Her eyes glowed furiously, clearly agitated by all of them at the moment. He noticed Dipper peer out from a a building to the right, unnoticeable by the female dream demon. He couldn't let the 13-year-old be seen, before he could through with the plan he obviously wanted to do. "JILL!"

Her head snapped to his direction, eyes narrowed dangerously. When Bill shot up from the ground though, Jill's sword in his hand, Stanley yelped in surprise. She whirled back around, only to be stabbed in her left eye, straight through her skull. As she howled furiously, Bill kicked her in the stomach, causing her to fall backwards onto her back. As sword began to shift at the impact, Stanley glanced away, sickened. "_BILL, I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL END YOU, I'LL END YOU AND BECOM-!_"

The rant morphed into senseless screams of aggravation. Stanley glanced back up, revealing Bill to be holding her down with one foot, as Dipper, and Mabel approached (When had she regained consciousness?). Gideon hesitantly lingered in the background, biting his bottom lip nervously. His eyes though, they defiantly stared into her flaming ones. The brunet held the sword in his trembling hands, before handing the hilt to his twin sister. He appeared anxious, breathing heavily, eyes blown wide. Bill stared at her, whispering, though Stanley could hear every word. "_Don't worry, Shooting Star, you wouldn't kill anyone. This will simply remove us from the dreamscape...and the approaching Nightmare Realm._"

"I know, Gideon already told us." Mabel answered, before lifting her weapon, and stabbing her in the other eye.

_~!-?-!~_

Returning back to Reality, wasn't as dramatic as arriving in the Nightmare Realm. In a literal blink of an eye, they had returned in their bodies. Dipper didn't quite understand how they had arrived in the basement, until he noticed the portal was on, though not violently swirling as it had been the first time an opening occurred. When he suddenly realized the saturation of the room had been lost, he knew that the dream demons were still here. He had barely adjusted to his settings, when Jill exploded. "_IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU TWO FOR MY WHEEL, THEN **NO ONE** CAN!_"

The portal began screeching, causing all of them to clap hands over their ears. When gravitation was lost, they all released their ears, and scrambled to grasp anything. Stanley clung to a metal pipe beside the door of the room, while Gideon clung frantically to his leg. The moment they did so, gravitation began to suck inwards, into the portal. Mabel was pulled towards to portal first, before she grasped onto a cable dangling from the walls, hair wildly flying backwards. Both Dipper and Stan reached for anything, missing each item they had a chance to hold purchase to. The others screamed, the pair were reaching closer to the mouth of the portal. The screams were lost though. Stan held onto lever with the shutdown button. Dipper's hands completely missed the lever, but Stan snatched his hand, before guiding the limb to the lever as well. They both desperately held on, as the portal attempted to suck them completely inside, like a blackhole. The female star, leered at them, eager for them to disappear. "_YOU'LL NO LONGER CURSE MY PRESENCE, **AGAIN**!_"

The portal didn't seem to affect her, as she remained floating in the air. Dipper knew they were doomed, especially since Bill couldn't be seen anywhere. He felt tears well in his eyes, the droplets floating away, into the mouth of the portal. Stan's hand covered his, his dark eyes catching his own, comforting him without a word. Dipper's eyes caught movement though, as he realized Bill had appeared behind his daughter, hands on fire. The star whirled around to the triangle, as her own lite up. "_YOU WON'T CEASE ME FROM WHAT I MUST DO, BILL!_"

She went to fling the fireballs at him, yet he was able to do so first. As the bluish hue flames licked at her, she was flung back, her sense of gravity lost. Bill didn't say a word, as she flew up, eye laced with a type of inhumane charm to it. Her hands scrambled around, for purchase, apparently her powers to resist the portal lost. Her boa flew towards the mouth, whipping around wildly, before it disappeared. Dipper didn't know where the portal led to at the moment, but he knew whatever went inside would never return to this dimension. Her screams echoed loudly, as her form slammed into Stan. The elder man's hold released, eyes widened, as the star clung to his leg. "_I NEVER GOT MINE. SO, I MADE MY OWN. WHY AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME, FATHER?! WHY?!_"

As he entered the mouth, his lower half disappearing into the portal, with Jill continuing to cling onto his limp from the other side, he grasped on the edges. Bill Cipher had vanished without a trace, truly abandoning them this time. It seemed as though Dipper's trust wasn't completely accurate, for he needed to the dream demon most, he had left. He began to violently sob, squeezing his eyes shut. The roar drowned at the noises of the rest of his family screaming at Stan and his own sobs. As though someone had sensed he wanted to be heard though, the roaring vanished. Stan stared into his eyes, speaking in a normal tone. "Dipper, stop crying already."

"B-But, you're going to get t-tired eventually and l-let go!" He sobbed, voice hoarse from his cries.

"I know that kid, which is why I rather go sooner rather than later...Look, I need to tell you where my will is."

"No! You don't need to, because you're going to get out of here somehow!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not. It's inside the reclining chair's cushion. Just unzip it and you'll find it in there. I would appreciate it if you could do most of what I put in there."

"P-Please, I d-don't...I w-won't d-do..." He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Tell Gideon I'm glad I got to know him. Like, really know him. He doesn't really know it, but he's a good kid...so is Soos. Tell Soos I've always been proud of him."

"No, you can! You can tell them both that!" The brunet could barely see his great-uncle, as his tears blurred the colors of the portal into him.

"Tell Wendy, that even though she's a lazy pain in my ass, that if she actually puts in the effort, she can do anything, alright?"

"N-No!" He blubbered helplessly.

"Didn't I just tell you to stop crying? Oh, yeah, you're sister...tell her that she...she has a good heart...though she can be kinda scary when she's angry. That doesn't really matter though. Tell Mabel I love her and she should always be herself, no matter what anyone else says," He seemed a bit choked up at those words, eyebrows furrowing. The tears didn't start welling until he spoke of his brother though. "Tell Lee that...I'm glad he was always there for me...that if we could do everything all over again, I would try to do better for him...he didn't need to lose all those years. He deserves so much more than what I gave him, but tell him he gave me the best years of my life. Tell him, I love him to pieces and that that's never gonna change."

"I can't..please, just...Grunkle Stan, please, y-you can tell them y-yourself, when we get o-out of here." He begged his great-uncle, who simply smiled him, a tinge of sadness present in it.

"You know I'm not going to make it out of this one...you're gonna to have to press the button to close the portal, Dipper."

"I c-can't though..." He shut his eyes, shaking his head.

"Kid, open you eyes...hey, just open them," He opened his eyes. "Kid, you can do it."

Dipper gasped, the familiar words haunting him. The future had always been there, warning him with certain phrases, yet he didn't notice any of them. He breathed wetly, as he choked out another sob, his great-uncle continuing to speak. "Dipper, you're braver than you think. Just because you have that anxiety thing going on, that doesn't mean you're a coward or a wimp. You're strong, stronger than when I first met you, and I'm glad that you are. Stanley and Mabel are gonna need you to be strong, so they can continue on. They're gonna need you to be strong, so that they can become the same. Kid, when you and your sister came here, well, you changed me...I...I didn't get any love back for so long, that I felt as though...it was all pointless, but...you two came into my life, and changed me...I'm...I'm glad your ma made that phone call to me. I'll really glad about that. I love you, Dipper."

The 13-year-old smiled back at him hesitantly, lips wobbling. "I love you, too, Grunkle Stan."

The elder man smiled began brighter at the words, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. Dipper raised a hand for the button, the tears now dried, attempting to cease his crying as Stan had asked him to do. It seemed as though the elder Pines couldn't do the the same though, as the trails on his aged cheeks revealed he couldn't. He wasn't sobbing though, nor had he ceased his smiling. Dipper hesitated though, hand over the button. He was about to lose one of the people he loved most. "Dipper, Dipper it's ok. Let go. Just, let go. Just let go of me and do it, kid."

Dipper closed his eyes, finally pressed the button, closing the portal, and lost his great-uncle forever.

_End Chapter 43_

**I want to thank all of you for staying with me throughout this entire story. To be honest, I never thought this would actually be supported as much as it has been for over the course of a year. Gravity Falls is an important aspect to my life at the moment, for personal reasons, and I'm saddened to know that by next week it will all be over. There is actually one more chapter left, the epilogue, before this is officially over. I'm thinking of leaving behind trivia in the author's note for the final chapter, but for now I'm going to give you all the translations of the ciphers I left in several of the chapters (those random numbers on the page breaks). **

**Prologue: Nineteen Seventy Five  
Chapter 1: Fear is Here  
Chapter 2: I am Stanley  
Chapter 3: Not Broken  
Chapter 4: Twins Run in Pairs  
Chapter 5: Destroy the Evil (Gideon's Latin chanting)  
Chapter 6: There is Another Demon  
Chapter 7: Silence is Loud  
Chapter 8: Jill Rephic  
Chapter 9: Not All Evil is Supernatural  
Chapter 12: Gideon Feels Emotion  
Chapter 13: Evil is a Frame of Mind  
Chapter 14: Never Doublecross Demons  
Chapter 15: She is Back  
Chapter 16: Does Anyone Read These?  
Chapter 18: Pacifica is Next  
Chapter 19: Why am I Still Writing These?  
Chapter 21: Fiddleford Remembers  
Chapter 25: Does Anyone Read These? (Without out even realizing it, I wrote this twice, whoops)  
Chapter 26: I'm Running Out of Things to Say  
Chapter 29: The End is Near (I obviously didn't edit these after I realized the end of the story was NOT near)  
Chapter 33: This Story is Almost Done (Same story as above)  
Chapter 38: The Nightmare Realm  
Chapter 41: One of the Elder Pines Will Not Survive  
**

**As always reviews, favorites, and followers are appreciated! **


	45. Epilogue

_Epilogue  
_

**Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. **

Dipper unzipped the seat cushion of his great-uncle's chair, frowning as pieces of shredded cotton, and crumbs fell out. He reached inside, feeling around, before grasping onto a folded piece of paper. He dropped the cushion back onto the chair, beginning to unfold it with trembling hands. The brunet flinched when his sister abruptly snatched it from his hands, her red rimmed eyes skimming across the words written. Gideon sniffled, wiping his nose, as he leaned against Mabel, squeezing his eyes shut. Stanley leaned forward, brushing up against Dipper, eyes lingering on the words. He began to read aloud, voice flat, and lacking emotion.

"**Last Will and Testament of Stanford Filbrick Pines **

**I, Stanford Filbrick Pines, an adult residing at 618 Gopher Street, Gravity Falls, Oregon, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. ****I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me.**

**ARTICLE I**

**I devise, bequeath, and give all the rest and remainder of my residuary estate as follows:**

**1\. 40% to Jason Pines.**

**2\. 40% to Mabel ****Kristen Pines.**

**3\. 15% to Stanley Pines.**

**4\. 5% to ****Jesus** **Alzamirano Ramírez.**

**ARTICLE II**

**I devise, bequeath, and give my business, The Mystery Shack, to my employee, ****Jesus** **Alzamirano Ramírez. I devise, bequeath, and give my personal belongings, in their entirety, to my great-nephew and great-niece, Jason and Mabel Kristen Pines. If they are underage, they are to be assisted in this aspect, in order for them to sort out my possessions and the estate they are to receive. If my son, one Stanley Pines, is to approach the situation, he is to assist them with the sorting out of my affairs.  
**

**ARTICLE III**

**I request to have my body to be cremated and spread among the forest of Gravity Falls, preferably near The Mystery Shack. If my beneficiaries desire to have a grave marking for me, I request it to be placed in the Lake View Cemetery, Seattle, Washington, preferably next to one Carla ****Joyce Downe, if the Downe family permits so. If not, I request to be buried in the Gravity Falls ******Cemetery.** The burial should only include family and those they deem necessary to attend.  
**

**ARTICLE IV**

**If Gideon Charles "Gleeful" Grievous is underage by the time of my death, he is to be fostered by Stanley Pines, instead of returned an orphanage. If his mother, Joana Grievous, awakens, and is in fit condition to care for him, he is to be returned to her. If necessary, Stanley Pines should be considered to adopt him, in order for him to be in a fit environment until adulthood.**

**ARTICLE V**

**The following is multiple requests I desire my family members to act for me, once I have passed. **

**1\. Underneath the floorboards, under the dining room table is a suitcase. I request it to be thrown over the Gravity Falls waterfall, without the contents being revealed to the light of day. In accordance with that briefcase, a sheet of paper underneath it has a phone number on it, which I request to be burned. No answers will come from it.**

**2\. A record labeled as "_The Temptations Sing Smokey_" and a box labeled "_CARLA_" are to be delivered to the Downe family.**

**3\. My fez is to be given to Jason and Mabel ****Kristen Pines.  
**

**4\. Inside the television set is seven grams of cocaine, and it is to be remain being there, until an individual known as Richard Sanchez appears for it. If he doesn't appear within 30 years after the date this is written, it is to be discreetly disposed of. If Sanchez is to ask what became of me, inform him of my deceased state. If he becomes aggressive in any form, or attempts to bring you to another dimension entirely, you are to quote me word-for-word with what is stated next in this will. "If you don't get your drunken ass off of my property, I'll haunt you until your goddamned life expires."  
**

**5\. Alexander Robert and Ariel ****Caskey Pines are to be informed of my demise.  
**

_**STANFORD FILBRICK PINES**_

**SELF-PROVING AFFIDAVIT**

**The instrument, consisting of this and two (2) typewritten pages was signed and acknowledged by Testator as his Last Will and Testament in our presence, and we, at his request, and in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses.**

**Under penalties for perjury, we, the undersigned Testator and witnesses declare:**

** 1\. That the Testator executed this instrument as his Will;**

**2\. That in the presence of witness, the Testator signed or acknowledge his signature already made, or directed another to sign for him in his presence;**

**3\. That the Testator executed the Will as his free and voluntary act for the purposes expressed in it;**

**4\. That the witness, in the presence of the Testator and of each other, signed the Will as witnesses;**

** 5\. That the Testator was of sound mind; and**

**6\. That, to the best of his knowledge, the Testator was at the time eighteen (18) or more years of age.**

**All of which is attested to this 30th day of July 2012.**

**-_Stanford Filbrick Pines_, Testator.**

**-_Doctor Richard John Thompson_, Witness.**"

"H-He's giving the Shack to Soos!" Mabel sobbed, face crumbling, much as it had yesterday in the portal room, when they had all realized Grunkle Stan was gone. This sobbing wasn't full of pure anguish, much as it had been then, but for the generosity he had written in his last will and testament. She begun to wail, as she realized they would have to inform Soos of his death, once he returned. "A-And n-now we have to t-tell h-him!"

"M-Mabel, he s-said he didn't want any of u-us...u-us...to c-cr..." Dipper broke off, feeling tears prickling in his eyes for the first time, since his great-uncle disappeared into the portal. Mabel and Gideon had sobbed, until they went hoarse, and Stanley had simply stared uncomprehendingly at the portal, where his twin had vanished off into. By the time the younger of the four wanted to go upstairs, from the shambled remains, he had continued to sit there. They hadn't been able to get a response from him, and went off to bed. When they had woken in the morning, he was making breakfast, though his eyes were suspiciously red rimmed, much as his sister's currently was.

Gideon buried his face into Mabel's shoulder, mumbling wetly. "H-He r-remembered m-me...h-he r-remembered m-me..."

"Children..." Stanley sighed aloud, directly their attention to him, all of their eyes filled with tears. "It's alright...everything will be fine..."

"G-Grunkle Stan is gone though..." Mabel lamented, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yes...I...the portal...it was in shambles before, but Jill fixed it momentarily...when she was gone though...the portal fell back apart...yes, he's gone, and I'm afraid he won't...b-be coming b-back..." Stanley hung his head, his six-fingered hands fiddling in his lap.

Dipper wiped his tears away, feeling an unidentifiable emotion swell in his heart. "Yeah, ok, Grunkle Stan is gone, but that's what he wanted. He made his decision. He decided to save us. He decided to save us from Jill and he's our hero for it. Stanford Pines is our hero, but we need to move on. We won't ever forget, b-but it's time for us to move on."

The other three stared at him in surprise at his speech, Gideon with wide eyes, Mabel gaping wordlessly, and Stanley's fingers squeezed together. The 13-year-old began to blush from the attention he was receiving, resulting in Mabel giggling, Gideon to smile hesitantly, and his grandfather to wipe his own tears away. He nodded at Dipper's words. "Yes, you're right, we need to move on. He...my brother, he would want us to...Now, who wants to sort through the contents of Stanford's room?"

_~!-?-!~_

"Mabel, perhaps it would be best if I was the one to remove whatever is underneath my brother's bed," Stanley grimaced, as Mabel coughed heavily, holding a cardboard box, the dust floating in a thick cloud around her. "God knows what's underneath there."

Dipper meanwhile was rummaging through his great-uncle's dresser, folding up the various articles of clothing. He knew Soos would be devastated to learn that his father figure had passed, and he decided the 22-year-old would perhaps want to go through his suits, to perhaps salvage a few himself. It was the least that could be done, considering the bond the pair had had. By this time tomorrow, Soos would know what had occur, and fall apart. Dipper wanted to be prepared though. Mabel was now in the middle of opening the filthily box, appearing disgusted as she removed a handful crumbling cigarettes from it, immediately dropping them back in. "EW!"

"Of course he would keep those," Stanley muttered to himself, with a roll of his eyes. "Sweetie, would you mind placing those in the trash pile?"

As she preceded to do so, Dipper removed an another article of clothing, bewildered face presenting itself. "Is this a...biker's jacket?"

"Oh, I remember that...it was when Jimmy Snakes had presented him with that...Stanford and I had gotten into an argument, which resulted in him running off for about a week or so. When he had returned, he had brought along a biker gang, and I was completely furious for bringing that group of hoodlums. He had been riding along with them for the entirety of a week and became an honorary member. Snakes had informed Stanford, that he was always welcomed back, before the gang left, if I recall correctly."

"Do you know who Richard Sanchez is then?"

His grandfather frowned. "No, I can't say that I do. He must have met him, after I disappeared through the portal. I don't approve of this man already though, considering the fact that Stanford has been holding cocaine inside the television set for him, for who knows how long. Speaking of drugs, you children should never-"

"-do drugs. Yeah, we know." The twins spoke in unison.

Stanley's eyebrows furrowed, mumbling to himself. "...even Stanford and I were never that much in sync...Well, as long as you two are awa-"

"S-Stanley?" Gideon hesitantly peering into the room made him pause, his attention fully shifting to the freckled boy.

"Yes?"

"I-I c-can't f-find i-it."

"He must have hidden it in another location then," Stanley commented, referring to the key that would be used to unlock the suspiciously locked closet in the room. He pulled himself up from the ground, using the mattress to assist himself into doing so. The older Pines brushed off the dust from his slacks, stepping towards the 11-year-old. "Shall we go and search together, Gideon?"

"Um, o-ok..." The pair exited the room, Stanley's hand resting upon one of Gideon's shoulders, leaving the twins in their great-uncle's room.

When Dipper glanced up from the Hawaiian shirt he was folding, he studied his twin sister's forlorn expression. Her silky hair partially cover her face, yet he could catch a view of her frown, the saddened eyes, and slightly furrowed eyebrows. He gulped, nearly feeling the tears well up once more, knowing as well as her how difficult it was to move one from their great-uncle. "M-Mabel, are you ok?"

She glanced up from the box, brushing her fingers through her hair. "I know we should move on, b-but...I don't know if I can...it's hard..."

"We have to though. Grunkle Stan would want us to."

"I know, b-but...Dipper, I miss him." Th tears spilled over the rim of her eyes, leaking down her cheeks.

He bit his lip, before sliding his bottom across the wooden floor, so that he was pressed up against her side. "Me too."

The brunette wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms back around her, his own tears dripping down his face now. His hands shook, breath quick, though he didn't feel as though he were about to hyperventilate. His sister was grounding him, preventing his anxiety from engulfing him. After a few moments, the pair pulled away, both wiping their tears. Mabel's expression perked up after a moment, reaching over to the box of records. "Hey, old people music!"

Dipper laughed wetly, removing one from the wooden box. "The '_Original Television Soundtrack for Star Trek'_? Oh man, how old is this?"

"I don't know, but this is awesome!" She snatched out another. "'Let It Bleed' by The Rolling Stones? That sounds really weird."

"'_The Dark Side of the Moon_' by Pink Floyd! I love this one!"

"Oh, that's the one Dad let's us listen to all the time back at home!" Mabel beamed, waving it around.

"'_Hotel California_' by The Eagles. Isn't that one song Mom sings along with when we're in the car?"

"Yeah, that's the one about the hotel that guy finds in the middle of nowhere!"

"Wait a second, Mabel, this is the record Grunkle Stan was talking about in his will!" Dipper tenderly removed the vinyl from the sleeve, observing the minimal scratches littered across the surface. Mabel brushed a thumb across the name "_CARLA MCCORKLE_" scrawled across one corner of the sleeve. Dipper exchanged the sleeve with Mabel, for the disc. He gasped loudly at something fluttered out from the opening. He lifted it from the floor, frowning. "What's this?"

It appeared to be an aged photograph, beginning to yellow, the right hand corner partially torn. The image presented a squatting woman, brunette hair feathered up, a flower clip holding the left side of her bangs in place. She appeared to be around in her early 40's, the beginnings of wrinkles barely present in the corner of her eyes. The woman beamed beautifully, makeup entirely missing from her spotless face. Her "mom jeans" were high-waisted and faded, a button-up purple shirt tucked into them. Squatting in front of her was a child, perhaps around 6-years-old, her curly brunette hair pulled up into a ponytail, a rainbow colored scrunchie clearly seen. A bandaid was on her chin, freckles spread across her nose. She wore a short-sleeved pink t-shirt, with a pair of overalls, her barefooted feet set in the grass below. She stuck out her tongue at the camera. Dipper flipped it over, the unfamiliar hand writing revealed to the twins. "**This is my daughter, Jolene. She just turned 6 this last March and I thought you would want to see a photo of her. She likes to get into a lot of trouble, though you could probably already tell judging from what she's doing. I'm pretty sure she would be all over you though. She loves new people and get's really excited about everything. Love, Carla and Jolene Downe, 1986.**"

"Oh, Thistle Downe really did..." Mabel began, saddened.

"...end up marrying Carla." Dipper finished off, with a sigh.

They were silent for a moment, before Stanley and Gideon entered, the older Pines holding a key in his hands. He approached the closet, placing the key into the lock, before jiggling it a bit. It finally unlocked and he swung the door open. Stacks of boxes were piled up inside, a row of a few shoes lined up in front of them. A pair of boxing gloves were on a self above, pieces of the first layer peeling off of them. He spotted a box labeled "**CARLA**" removing in, and setting it onto the floor. Mabel plopped down beside him, waving the photographed she had snatched from Dipper, in his face. "Look what we found, Grandpa Stanley."

He paused, face blank, as he removed the picture from her hands. He observed the image, before flipping it over. He smiled gently, whispering to himself. "Even after she broke his heart, she still cared..."

Mabel was handed back the photograph, as the other two plopped down beside him. The older Pines opened the folds of the cardboard box, frowning to reveal the contents to be only letters. He removed one, opening up the envelope and reading a bit aloud. "**January 1st, 1987. Dear Stan, I hope you and your brother are having a good birthday (or did if this arrived too late) and enjoy your new year. I hope you received my Christmas Card. Jolene picked it out herself, because she thought you would like it. I've told her a few things about you and she keeps thinking your secretly a lovable teddy bear. She wants to actually read something from you, so I would appreciate it if you would write back one of these days. It's been at least 8 years since I started writing and I want to finally hear from you for once. It seems you've changed your phone number, since I can't reach you that way. Anyways, hope to hear from you soon. Jolene drew a picture of you (I showed her one of you once) and it's on the back. Love, Carla and Jolene Downe.**"

"He never wrote her back?!" Mabel snatched up another letter, frowning as she opened one. "Wait, but this one was written to_ her_ in 1983."

Stanley frowned, plucking it from her grasp. "...He never sent it."

Dipper reached into the box, pushing aside several envelopes. "There's a bunch that were either sent to Grunkle Stan or were supposed to be sent to Carla in here."

The older Pines sighed. "Why did that idiot never send them?"

"...m-maybe h-he d-didn't w-want t-to i-intrude o-on h-her f-family..." Gideon mumbled, staring intently at the first letter they had found.

Stanley nodded after a brief pause. "Perhaps..."

"I guess we have to bring these to Washington." Dipper inputted, beginning to open one of them.

His grandfather nodded. "As long as we can get your parents to confirm this is alright...and...perhaps we should inform them of the situation."

"I don't know, Grandpa Stanley...how are we gonna explain who you are and how you're all young?" Mabel bit her lip, holding the letter in her grasp to her chest.

"I'll be sure to take care of it myself. From what I understand, my daughter-in-law is more agreeable than my own son is. I'll call her and brooch the subject with her, alright? The trip would have to be quick though, especially since school starts soon in California. And, Gravity Falls Elementary starts sooner, so we have to prepare Gideon for the school year."

"Oh yeah! We're gonna be in junior high, Dipper." Mabel beamed, appeared excited at the possibilities of a new stage of her life.

"I-I'm o-only g-going i-into t-the 5th g-grade." Gideon pouted, clearly upset that they'll be ahead of him now.

"The 5th grade's fun though, Gideon. I remember how much of a good time I had with the books we read," Dipper attempted to boost his friend's excitement for the new school year. He didn't share though on how that year had been the one that he had spiraled into having the anxiety being uncontrollable, leading up to him skipping the entirety of the 6th grade, as he had been in the hospital for the most the year (due to him being capable of doing higher amount of schoolwork though, he was allowed to skip over the grade, and move on to the 7th this upcoming year). "That's the first time I read 'Where the Red Fern Grows'."

Gideon cracked a smile at that, beginning to feel as though the year wouldn't be as horrible as he assumed. "A-And, m-maybe I-I'll m-make s-some m-more f-friends."

"Don't forget about us though!" Mabel exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"I-I w-won't e-ever f-forget y-you...o-or D-Dipper." He blushed as he spoke the words, feeling the brunette squeeze his shoulder comfortably.

"If you do, I'll come back and bug you until you remember you're my best friend!" The three laughed, as Gideon's blush deepened, burying his face in his pudgy hands.

When they had calmed, Dipper glanced up at his grandfather, biting his bottom lip. "Grandpa Stanley?"

"Yes?"

"Since when did Grunkle Stan have a son?"

Stanley gulped thickly. "He doesn't."

Mabel never noticed the conversation, as she had been distracted when she noticed movement in the corner of her eyes. Her head snapped to the left, observing a broken mirror leaning up against the wall. She briefly wondered to herself if perhaps Grunkle Stan had been there, keeping as eye on his family, but the idea disappeared soon after, when she was caught up in what her grandfather had said.

_~!-?-!~_

On the outside of the Mystery Shack, there seemed to be a watchful eye from a row of bushes lining the clearing. In the morning sunlight, an individual was reflecting the golden hued light spilled over his form, though the light didn't penetrate any shadows nearby. Bill Cipher swung his cane in circles, listening on to the laughter erupting from the building, wishing a merry tune to himself. If one to were listen closely, they would identify it to be "The Entertainer", though it seemed as though no on else was around to hear it. He adjusted his bow tie, whispering into the clearing before him. "_It appears as though my work is done._"

"_William,_" A voice from behind announced the presence of another from behind, though the dream demon didn't turn around. Bill knew exactly who the individual was, considering how long he had known him. A square shaped purple dream demon, clad in a bowler hat, a tie, and holding a umbrella by his side was there. His eye seemed to pierce the triangle from behind. "_Are you ready?_"

"_I believe I am, Tad._"

"_No goodbyes? I had mine, when it came to my wheel._" Tad Strange's voice held a wistful tone to it, tightening the hold of his umbrella.

"_I don't think I could...especially since this is last I'll see this dimension._" Bill turned away, facing to the other dream demon, willingly holding his hands up.

"_Very well..._" With a snap of his fingers, Tad had Bill's hands in a pair of translucent handcuffs, glowing a faint purple hue. The triangle nearly seemed to grimace, pained by what had occurred, though he didn't voice this discomfort. Bill Cipher glanced once more over his shoulder, at the Mystery Shack for the last time. A portal opened in front of him, a rainbow hue swirling inside it, much as the portal had. "_As ordered by **Father**, our great and holy ruler, you, **William Cipher Pines**, are to be imprisoned for breaking the universal rules set in accordance of **Father** himself. Interfering with the timeline, despite the fact that it was needed to be done, in order to prevent **Jillian Margret Pines** from disrupting anymore wheels, is cause for immediate imprisonment for life._"

Bill closed his eye. "_Goodbye, Pines._"

They vanished from Reality.

_~!-?-!~_

"Hello?" The voice of Alexander Robert Pines had tears prickling in Stanley's eyes. He covered a hand over his mouth, in order to stifle the ragged gasps he was beginning to release. He couldn't speak, fearing he would fall apart. "Hello? This better not be a prank call. I can hear you breathing you know."

Finally, he gasped out his question. "H-Hello, is Ariel nearby?"

"...whose asking?" Alex intoned, sounding wary of him.

"Um...ah...I'm...I'm Stanford Pines's son."

"...what?"

He breathed deeply, steadying himself. "My name is Stanley and Stanford Pines was my father. I have some unfortunate news I wished to convey and thought perhaps it would be best if Ariel knew first."

"What for?"

Stanley frowned. "Um, she seemed to be in frequent contact with the past few months and I th-"

"Hold on a second..." The line was quiet for a moment, before he could distantly hear voices. They rose in volume, beginning to sound as though they were arguing. He couldn't hear the details, but he had a feeling this involved his brother. After about a minute or so, the voices died down, and a new voice approached his ears.

"Hello?"

"Um, yes, t-this is Stanley Pines. Stanford Pines was my father."

"Yes, so I've heard from my husband. Stan never told me he had a son?"

"Ah, that's slightly complicated, but it was for a good reason. I don't want to intrude, but may I ask what you were arguing about with my...cousin?"

"Well, I haven't been quite honest to him well...anyways, is there anything you needed?"

He felt his throat go dry, attempting to speak with normal tone. "I-I'm afraid I have some...b-bad news..."

"Oh, this doesn't sound good. Does this involve Stan? Is he alright? My children are with him a-"

"I-I know...I've already met them...they're quite wonderful to be around."

"Well, what's going on then?"

"My brot...f-father...S-Stanford's p-passed away..."

_~!-?-!~_

The Pines gathered around the front door of the vanilla colored colonial style home, located at a pleasant neighborhood in Seattle. The lawn appeared neatly trimmed, a oak tree in the front yard, with a depleted tire swing hanging from it. Bushes lined the sidewalk, that led up the porch the trio currently stood on. Stanley reached out, pressing the doorbell, with the cardboard box labeled "**CARLA**" tucked underneath his opposite arm. Mabel held the record to her chest, careful not to crush the vinyl disc inside. Dipper had the photograph stuffed into the pocket of his dark brown pants, his hand patting at it. After a brief moment, the door swung open, revealing a woman in her early 30's. Her curly brunette hair was braided, her bangs pulled back into it, freckles spread across her face. She had a scar on her chin, huge lips spreading into a smile. "I was wondering when you three would appear."

Stanley blinked in surprise. "You knew we were coming?"

"Of course, Stanley," His eyes widened at the use of his name, before she waved them in. "Come on in."

Dipper and Mabel glanced at one another, frowning, though they followed their grandfather as he entered the premises. She ushered them into the living room, heading towards the kitchen herself. They awkwardly sat upon the couch, the cardboard box now in Stanley's lap, as they awaited her return. They glanced around at the sparse decorations, observing the variety of photographs lined against one wall. When she emerged from the kitchen, she held a tray of glasses, all filled with lemon-aid. "Please, drink. I'm sure it must have been hot on your drive here."

"Um, a-are you Jolene?" Dipper asked in confusion, as he observed her sitting down in the love seat across the coffee table separating them. Mabel studied her sunshine yellow tank top, revealed her freckle covered shoulders, and her slim jeans, beginning to relax from the comforting aura she presented to them, knowing she already liked this woman.

"Yes I am, Dipper," He startled at the use of his name, though she continued on, as though it was normal that she already knew her name, despite the fact he had never told her. "Is that my mother's vinyl, Mabel?"

She gasped at the use of her name, nodding her head immediately, as she handed it across the table. Jolene removed it from her hands, smiling knowingly at it, before setting it down onto the table. Stanley took a sip of his drink, before clearing his throat, and speaking."Mam, I'll be frank, when I say I'm quite confused as to how you already know our names. "

"Oh, I apologize. When you've lived your entire life as I have, you simply forget to explain. Yes, I am Jolene Downe, Carla McCorkle's and Thistle Downe's daughter. I know that you three are the Pines, due to my...'sight'. I am considered somewhat of psychic in these parts," The twins gave one another doubtful looks, recalling how much of a psychic Gideon had been. "No, I am a real one, unlike your friend had been."

Their eyes widened, shocked at her words. "It's a bit difficult to describe it, but I'll try my best. I don't exactly see into the future, but I obtained certain information, that usually pops into my mind, when an individual approaches my house. I've had information for the three of you processed though me, so I know what's needed to be known. I don't know everything though, only certain aspects, such as your names."

"That's...difficult to believe. How exactly did you receive your powers?" Stanley leaned forward, clearly remaining skeptical of her powers.

"Well, when I was three-years-old, I found a letter dated back to 1979, that had been returned to my mother, unopened. I had been playing around in her closet one afternoon, and stumbled across it. The moment I touched it, I felt an electric current run through me, and witnessed a rainbow mass assault my mind, and a voice that had cried out against someone know as 'Cipher'. When the vision had passed, I had been brought to the hospital, after suffering a seizure. Soon after I woke, my powers began to awaken."

They all gaped at her, clearly stunned by her story, knowing the words to be a reference to the portal incident back in 1975, five years before she would be even alive. Carla wouldn't even know about what had occurred, as she had left Gravity Falls prior to the event. Stanley frowned, obviously believing her now, pondering to himself, as he mumbled. "Interesting...perhaps Stanford being near the portal had left behind a type of...he touched the letter...passed along...develops into a power...?"

"I'm sorry to say, but I don't actually know how it happened."

"Do you know about Stan?" Dipper wondered aloud, already half-way finished with her glass.

"Well, the first time I saw Stan, was later that very night, in my dreams. He's been the only one that I knew about, without having met. Stan may have never knew me, but I certainly knew him. I could hear bits of him throughout the years, and witness certain...events. To be honest, I don't know the context behind much of these visions, but over the years I grew to care for him. This may seem...strange, but I...I actually thought he was my father at one point and dubbed him as so when I was younger."

Stanley appeared bewildered by the words. "But...you never met...and...w-what about your own father?"

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry to say, but my father passed in an car accident, was I was merely two-years-old."

"I...you...my b-brother..."

She smiled. "No, I'm afraid Stan never knew about that. Mother always wrote letters, yet...she never wanted to tell him."

"W-Why?" Mabel wondered, heartbroken appearance apparent to the others.

Jolene set down her cup of lemon-aid with a sigh. "I remember the last time I talked to her, she told me 'I never told him about my situation, because I knew he would drop everything, just to come and help. I couldn't do that to him'. She still cared about him, even after all those years."

Mabel's eyes teared up, while Dipper's eyes widened at the familiarly haunting words. "Carla still loved him."

"My mother, she loved my father to pieces. She mourned for him throughout her entire life, but...I believe if Stan didn't...if Stan didn't go to...prison? Yes, if he didn't go to prison, I'm fairly certain I would have been born as Jolene Pines and, well, I don't think we would be meeting as we are now. My mother never thought he would return from prison and moved on. Stan returned though and wasn't quite the same. Experiences such as that change not only one person, but several others."

Dipper thought about his Generalized Anxiety Disorder and how it had changed his family as a whole. Everyone had been stressed about Dipper, revealing it in various aspects. His mother became overbearing, attempting to assist him through every single step, and constantly voicing her concern. His father had started to snap at him, yelling at him to simply calm down. Mabel had been a mixture of distant (at times she didn't visit him for weeks), to always being there for him (at times she would ride the bus everyday to the hospital for him and stay for hours). The dynamic of their family had changed as a whole, so he knew exactly how it was. "I...think I understand."

"As I thought you would," She remarked, with a mysterious smile, though she didn't elaborate on the meaning. "Don't worry about my powers though, since when others leave me, the infinite knowledge on them leaves as well. For example, I know your full history with your brother, Stanley, but when you leave most will be forgotten...the only exception had been Stan...I always knew everything about him...until two days ago...now though, most of his history is fuzzy. I no longer view him as a guardian in my life, but as a distant memory of a childhood friend now."

"This is confusing!" Mabel finally groaned aloud.

"As it should be. Overtime though, perhaps you can grow to understand. Now, I have a vague understanding of what is in the box, so perhaps you may fully explain what it is?"

Stanley set the box onto the coffee table, beginning to open it. "Right, well, these are the various letters you mother sent to Stanford over the years and...and the ones he never sent to her."

The brunette reached out to the now organized piles, removing the latest one Stan wrote, on July 30th of that year. Jolene held it to her chest, breathing deeply, green eyes fluttering shut. "I can feel...how much emotion he had written into it..."

Stanley gulped thickly. "Yes, well, he...he wrote a lot of emotion into his last will and testament...I know we barely know you, but he had a request in one of the articles. You might already know what it is though."

Her eyes opened. "No, I don't. It will take awhile for you to grasp an understanding of my powers, but you're almost on the right track. What's the request?"

"Well, Stanford wished to have a tombstone beside your mother. He would have been cremated...if there was a b-body...but he wanted a marker there. If that's too weird and if there isn't any room beside her, as I know you father will be there, I completely understand. It sounds strange to m-"

"No, it's perfectly fine, Stanley. There is room on the left side of the tomb and I'm more than willing to allow it. After all, your brother had quite the influence on me throughout the years. It feels like he was almost family to me...would...would you mind if I kept these letters though?"

"Oh, of course, they're meant for you to keep anyways, as it was in his will."

Jolene's smile returned. "Thank you, Stanley."

He shook his head. "No, no, thank you Jolene. I'm grateful for this meeting."

"J-Jolene?" Dipper's eyes lingered beyond her right shoulder.

"Yes, Dipper?"

"Is that...is that a photograph of...?" He pointed on the fireplace mantel behind her, at the framed photograph set upon it.

"Yes, that is your grandfather and great-uncle. It was an old photo my mother had and if you would like you can take it for yourself." Stanley's eyes squinted behind his glasses, lighting up at the sight of the familiar photograph, beginning to be nostalgic at the sight.

The 13-year-old licked his lips, before nodding. "Thank you."

The pair of twins approached the mantel, as Jolene and Stanley continued to converse. Dipper's hand reached up, taking hold of it, and bringing it down to get a better view. In the image, Grunkle Stan had his arm slung over Grandpa Stanley's shoulder, grinning widely, with a thumbs up on his free hand. They appeared younger than Stanley was at the moment, perhaps in their mid-20's, perhaps slightly older. He wore a plain white t-shirt, the top of a pair of a jeans barely peeping into the picture. Stanley wore a dark long-sleeved top, with a pair of tan slacks peeping into the picture. His bulky glasses were crooked, a scowl present on his face, though a glint of excitement was clearly present in his eyes. Dipper removed the back of the frame, handing the photograph itself to Mabel. She flipped it over with a gasp. Dipper frowned at her, leaning closer. "What?"

Scrawled across the back with their great-uncle's familiar handwriting scribbled across, in words that could possibly refer to Carla and Stanley or to... "**I love the both of you to pieces and I'm thankful you guys were in my life. I hope you two become whatever you want to be.**"

Dipper and Mabel felt a weight lift from the both of their hearts.

_END_

**Alright, I want to start off with thanks to all of you supportive readers that have joined me in this fanfiction, over the past year. Gravity Falls has ended roughly a week prior, which I'm thankful matches up quite nicely with this ending. When I first had started this though, I hadn't imagined the response I would receive. On Tumblr, I had started to see posts, that presented startling evidence that Stan had a twin. When I checked on Fanfiction though, to to find any based on that idea, there was barely any to be seen (that's obviously not the case now). So, in November of 2014, I wrote a out an outline of new story involving the twin, based off of this idea I had read so much about. I hadn't thought though, that Stan was actually Stanley, while Ford was actually Stanford. I have Stan as Stanford and Ford as Stanley, simply because of the way the original theory had been presented. Obviously the Mystery Trio doesn't exist in canon, but in this story it does.  
**

**Regarding the trivia in this story...I've added minor notes and edits throughout the story about a month ago (to fix the conflicting plot details and accidental misuse of words). The facts I use in my notes are real ones, that I know from researching websites I've found are trustworthy (.org, .edu, .gov), in order to have a semblance of real world incorporated into it. In other words, I put a lot of time and effort into writing out my stories. I really am thankful that the handwork has paid off, considering the support I've gotten for my fic (seriously, I've had people tell me they've read the entire fic multiple times and freak out over it).**

** Gravity Falls is one of those shows that has influenced my life throughout the years, due to a number of reasons. I love the dorky comedy, the lovable characters, and the mysterious secrets hidden throughout the entire show. Mabel Pines is the type of person I aspire to be (seriously, she's such a positive person, I love her), while Stanley Pines is someone I can relate to on a personal level. I usually don't want to go into personal aspects such as what I'm about to go into, but I thought it would be necessary to explain. I feel as though Stan has a type of self-loathing, similar to one that I've held for myself several times over the years (I do still suffer from this, but it's not quite as severe as it used to be). I also feel as though he has been abused, and needed more love than what he had received in the past. As a victim of emotional and verbal abuse, I understand what it's like to live with someone like Filbrick Pines, and how degrading it can be on who you are as a whole.  
**

**I originally considered having a sequel to this story, though I decided against it in the end. In case I do change my mind though, I've left plenty of loose ends, much as Hirsch has in Gravity Falls, if I ever want to return. For now though, if any of you want to leave me questions either as reviews or private messages about the story, I'll be sure to answer to the best of my ability (some might not have direct answers though, considering the possibility I could return). For example, there was a bit of confusion on whenever or not Stan had died or not. If he's dead or trapped in another dimension is up to you, though they do refer to him being dead. What the characters believe versus what reality is though, that's up to you readers.  
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**Finally, I really want to thank Aldecaalfi for the Spanish translations in this story. I do speak minimal Spanish, but my writing is cringe worthy when it comes to the language. They were a huge help though and I was praised by a few reviewers for the effortless transition. That transition was thanks to Aldecaalfi though, so that was all on them. Thanks again though. If I never need to have translations for Spanish, I know who to turn to. **

**Once again, thanks all of you for supporting me and I hope to hear from some of you again!**

_**February 24th, 2016**_


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